


Make A Wish

by 127s



Series: resonance prompts [11]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Completed, Denial of Feelings, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, Fighting, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mild Fluff, Pet Names, Phone Sex, Possessive Doyoung, Praise Kink, Riding, Yearning, admitting feelings, background johnten and markhyuck, coffee dates, did somebody say domestic dotae, doyoung is an actor and singer, hook ups, johnny saves the day, kinda make up sex??, not relevant to the plot whatsoever but johnyong are roommates and i think that's neat, oh no?? is that?? FEELINGS?, showering together, taeyong is a choreographer, they get cockblocked by their own arguing, they're in LOVE your honour, whipped dotae that's it that's the tag, yep that's definitely feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/127s/pseuds/127s
Summary: Come over.Taeyong frowns at the straight forward message. Usually, he expected them to some extent, but this time he hadn't in the slightest. It hadn't even been that long since they'd last met up, not to mention the significance of the date.Why would I do that?The reply comes less than a minute later.Because it's my birthday?
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Series: resonance prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993867
Comments: 157
Kudos: 600





	1. 01

Taeyong hates that his mind is on _him,_ that it had been since the moment he'd woke up and checked his phone. Even with eyes blurred with sleep, the moment he'd seen the date he'd thought of him, and God did he hate that he'd remembered his birthday.

The thought weights on his mind all day, thoughts of him, what he's doing, how he's celebrating his birthday, who he's with. Why does he care so much? He doesn't even like Kim Doyoung. 

"Oh come on," Johnny interrupts whatever mess of a train of thought Taeyong's busy in, leaning closer towards the TV. "I thought Mark said this movie was good."

Taeyong gives a small hum, as if he's paying attention, though he's sure his roommate sees straight through it. He's long forgotten what the movie they'd put on to watch together had even been about, and had just jumped at the opportunity to think about anything other than Doyoung. It hadn't worked, of course.

He notices his phone had lit up with a notification, and picks it up with a little reluctance to the movement. Doyoung's contact name waited eagerly for him at the screen.

_Come over._

Taeyong frowns at the straight forward message. Usually, he expected them to some extent, but this time he hadn't in the slightest. It hadn't even been that long since they'd last met up, not to mention the significance of the date.

_Why would I do that?_

The reply comes less than a minute later.

_Because it's my birthday?_

Taeyong wants to roll his eyes at that. He can practically hear it in Doyoung's annoying, know-it-all tone, like Taeyong owes him everything in the world and more. He decides against replying, and only has a minute or so of mental back and forth with himself before he's starting to stand up. "Sorry, I gotta head out. Something came up."

Johnny looks up, pausing the movie. "Oh? Everything alright?"

Taeyong forces a smile. "Yeah, yeah. Nothing bad. Just a friend needs something."

"Ah, okay," His roommate nods. "I'll see you later, then?"

Taeyong nods.

Friend, enemy that he hooks up with from time to time. Same thing, basically.

He always gets a nervousness when he approaches Doyoung's apartment, but he supposes it's to be expected when it's someone he hates more than anything. 

Doyoung doesn't have a roommate, but Taeyong still finds himself texting rather than knocking anyway. 

_I'm here._

He hopes his bitterness is clear through the text. Why _is_ he here? He doesn't care about Doyoung's stupid birthday, he's not even that desperate yet—

"Took you long enough," He hears before the door is even half open, and there's Doyoung in the doorway, looking like he's just rolled out of bed, even though it's well into the evening by now. "Did you forget the part where I told you it was my birthday?"

Taeyong rolls his eyes. "Forgive me for thinking you'd want to spend it doing something other than fucking me." He welcomes himself inside, pushing past the other.

"You're here, aren't you?" Doyoung closes the door after himself, giving Taeyong that cocky look that never fails to infuriate him.

"Yeah, and I can still leave. you know." He answers like he's just been scolded.

To make matters worse, Doyoung _smiles_ as if he'd won whatever dumb argument the bickering between them entailed, and Taeyong already wants to roll his eyes again. "Do us both a favour and stop talking, Taeyong."

"Fuck you, Doyoung," Taeyong replies, although Doyoung is already leaning in, presumably to shut the older up before he finds something to complain about. Taeyong doesn't argue with it, melting into the kiss the moment their lips brush together and Doyoung's hand rests against his cheek, letting himself be lightly pushed towards the nearest wall. He'd been against it at first, kissing, said he'd rather just get it over with as soon as possible, but the more they did it, the more he realised he didn't mind _that_ much, and that maybe the taste of Doyoung's lips was even the slightest appealing.

He can tell Doyoung is impatient, more than usual at least, because he's deepening the kiss in an instant, and pressing Taeyong's back against the wall a little harsher. Their kisses are always fast paced and messy, and Doyoung's touchy, like he has to explore every inch of Taeyong every time they meet. 

It's after a few minutes of hastily making out that Doyoung pulls away, a hand finding Taeyong's wrist to tug him along to his bedroom. 

For once, Taeyong keeps quiet, maybe it's the niceness that comes with knowing it's Doyoung's birthday that stops him from starting on a string of complaints about how Doyoung's grip is too tight and careless, and how as usual, he didn't even bother to make his bed for the occasion.

Instead, it's a wordless, habitual movement, Doyoung connecting their lips again, hands wandering to Taeyong's hips, guiding him backwards onto his bed. Taeyong can't do much but follow the movements, and once the back of his legs feel the softness of the mattress, he starts to move back, managing to make it onto the bed without breaking the kiss for even a second. Doyoung follows, positioning himself over Taeyong before pushing him down into a lying position, his back against the mattress.

The kiss lasts a little longer before Doyoung trails away from it, lips finding place at Taeyong's jaw instead. He litters a few kisses along it, then moves to his neck, where Taeyong feels an immediate hot breath against his skin. It makes him let a small, pathetic noise slip past his lips.

Doyoung always leaves him with hickeys. Taeyong doesn't get it, doesn't know why he even cares to take the time of strategically sucking at his skin long enough to leave pretty, purple marks in his wait, but he can't quite find himself objecting.

Doyoung's hand slips beneath Taeyong's shirt, fingertips tracing over every muscle and detail of his stomach, of his chest, all the while keeping his attention on sucking harshly at Taeyong's skin, leaving lingering kisses. It's when his fingers brush past his nipple that Taeyong whines ever so slightly, and Doyoung smirks against his skin, telling the older it's exactly what he wanted.

"You're so sensitive," Doyoung tells him, pulling himself away from the other's neck and sitting straight, starting to pull his own shirt over his head. "It's annoying." He carelessly tosses the shirt to the side.

Taeyong is just a little breathless. "Says the guy who could barely last thirty seconds into a blowjob last week." He manages, taking the hint to tug his shirt off too, somewhat less graceful about the movement than Doyoung had been.

Doyoung is the one to roll his eyes this time. "Only because it's as long as I can stand being around you."

Taeyong doesn't get to make another comment before Doyoung's kissing him again, hovering above him. The kiss is only messier, because neither are quite focused on it, instead on how their bodies instinctively press against each other, how eager Taeyong's hips are for any contact with him.

"Fuck, Taeyong, why do you always wear jeans?" Doyoung mutters in annoyance the moment they're separated again, his fingers having moved to fuss over the zipper.

"I don't plan my whole day around this, surprisingly enough." A still breathless Taeyong answers. 

Doyoung manages to get the zipper undone, and opts to let Taeyong pull the jeans off himself, while the younger moves to the side, opening the drawer of the nearby nightstand to feel around for a condom and lube.

Taeyong takes note of how Doyoung doesn't respond, and decides to press it a little further, sitting up to properly slide off his jeans, and put them to the side. "And I'm guessing you do? I don't know why you want to do this on your _birthday_ of all days."

Doyoung finds the small bottle and packaging, pulling them out and pushing the door to a close. He still doesn't say anything, so Taeyong continues.

"I mean, why wouldn't you want to spend it with your friends? Your family? You know, people you actually care about?"

"Shut up." Doyoung says, starting to fiddle with the condom packaging, although he doesn't even care to open it yet. 

"No," Taeyong finds himself answering, and brings his hand over to take the condom in one harsh movement, making Doyoung look at him. "Why am I here? Why tonight? Why aren't you doing something that matters? With someone that matters?" He isn't sure where it's coming from, the sudden questioning, and he isn't sure why he sounds almost concerned.

Doyoung is still, and his expression is blank. He's always good at that, Taeyong thinks. He never shows emotion unless he wants him to see it. 

"You should go."

Taeyong frowns. "What?"

"Go. Just— get out Taeyong. This isn't some fucking interview."

Taeyong is taken aback by the words. They've argued, they've fought, but never once has Doyoung outright demanded that he _left._ But he still finds himself there, like he wants to defend himself, to stay. "Doyoung—"

"I said go!" Doyoung's voice raises in a way Taeyong hasn't heard before.

Taeyong lingers a moment longer, before he throws the condom to the side, pushes himself off the bed. He doesn't say anything more, just gets dressed, pulling his jeans and shirt on, and God, Doyoung is right, as fucking usual, the jeans are really annoying when you're in a rush. 

He's out the moment he's able to, letting the door slam after himself. He doesn't know why are there are tears in his eyes— of anger, frustration, he doesn't know.

Fuck Kim Doyoung, he thinks.

And his stupid fucking birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> editing the notes of this to say it's now chaptered! originally i wrote this with the intentions of keeping it as a oneshot, but decided to continue with it! i hope you enjoy the rest!! :D


	2. 02

Doyoung absentmindedly taps the empty coffee cup against the table, fingers comfortably wrapped around it. Really, he hadn't meant to finish _two_ coffees before Jungwoo had even got there, but he was tired. Tired as in he'd been having more trouble sleeping than he had in a long time, and it was all because he was thinking.

Thinking about Taeyong.

He looks to the cup, exhaling at the scribble of his name atop of it. Maybe, and maybe was a strong word, he shouldn't have demanded the other should leave so suddenly. But it wasn't all on Doyoung, Taeyong shouldn't have been so nosy and unbearable. 

Maybe he could have put up with it if it were anything else, but he'd had to ask _that,_ had to be so fucking insistent on why Doyoung had wanted them to meet on his birthday. 

He wasn't sure if that part was harder to admit to himself or to Taeyong.

"Something on your mind?"

Doyoung's stare lifts to find Jungwoo. The younger looks slightly flushed, like he'd rushed to get there. "Just tired." He assures with a slight smile. "What had you caught up?"

Jungwoo exhales, pulling the chair across from Doyoung and sitting down. "Class ran late, sorry."

"It's fine," Doyoung answers, still thoughtful. "How's Mark and Donghyuck?"

It isn't like he misses Taeyong. Of course he doesn't, he doesn't even like him. He can't stand being with him, talking to him. 

But maybe he doesn't mind the physical side of it, the way the older makes his heart race in that subtle, but not subtle at all way, and how Taeyong's touches are always instant and welcoming, and maybe he doesn't mind how it feels to be inside him.

"Doyoung?"

He clears his throat a little, willing himself to focus on the present. "Mm? Did you say something?"

"Yeah, I said they're fine— Though I wish I'd known just how much of a third wheel I'd be when I signed up as their roommate," Jungwoo smiles, though Doyoung notices the expression fade quickly. "Are you sure you're just tired?"

Doyoung hates that Jungwoo can tell he isn't. Anyone probably could. And he hates that, because he's supposed to be good at covering up how he's feeling. How does Taeyong manage to mess up everything?

A part of him wants to tell the other everything on his mind, about Taeyong, but he can't bring himself to. "Think I messed something up." Even the vague comment makes him feel vulnerable, and he doesn't let himself look anywhere near Jungwoo. 

Though he's busy staring aimlessly at the empty cup again, he hears Jungwoo shift in the chair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Doyoung answers honestly.

"Well, whatever it is," Jungwoo starts to stand up, and Doyoung forces himself to look over to him. "I'm sure you can still fix it. I'm gonna order something."

Doyoung nods. 

He could fix it. 

But he's not supposed to want to.

It's after a half hour of mindless conversation with Jungwoo, and eventually, a third coffee, that Doyoung decides to leave. He brings a hand through his hair, tossing his cup into the trash as he left.

His apartment wasn't far, only the next street, to be exact, which probably wasn't the best case for his quickly developing caffeine addiction, but it was convenient. It already quickly getting dark, though he sort of liked it that way, how the day faded into the night around him.

He exhales a little into the cold air, and his hand finds his phone in his pocket subconsciously. 

Really, he knows he shouldn't bother.

They're both stubborn, but with this, Taeyong is more stubborn. 

He knows what Taeyong's like, especially when he's mad at him. 

If he doesn't talk to him first, they won't talk at _all,_ and maybe Doyoung should be okay with that. But he's not.

His thumb navigates his phone, pressing Taeyong's contact to call.

It rings three times before there's a dramatic sigh on the other end. "What, Doyoung?"

Good question. What was he even supposed to say?

"Do you want to come over?" It's habitual, the words forming before he can even think about it.

Doyoung can imagine the other's expression. "Come over? So you can tell me to leave after ten minutes again and make me feel like shit?"

"No," Doyoung sighs, looking around, trying to focus on street signs and building fronts he passes, the lights of passing cars, anything other than how Taeyong probably looks right now. "But—"

"But what? You're going to apologise?"

He finds himself silent, pressing his lips together.

Taeyong huffs. "That's exactly what I thought."

"You shouldn't have—" Doyoung mutters, frustrated. He doesn't even give him a chance.

"Fuck you, Doyoung." Taeyong makes a point of hanging up before the other can fit another word in.

Maybe mad was an understatement. 

Whatever. Doyoung wasn't apologising for something that was Taeyong's fault anyway.

It was stupid to call.

He pushes his phone back into his pocket, absentmindedly walking a little faster the rest of the distance to his apartment.

He closes the door after himself, just a little louder than he needs to, and gives another long sigh at the sight of the empty apartment in wait for him. He knows he's lucky, as an introvert especially, to have the space to himself. But sometimes there's something off about it, something he doesn't like.

Doyoung settles at the couch, turning on the TV, though he knew it'd become nothing but background noise, and retrieved his phone once again. He looks blankly at the screen for a moment, wondering if there was much else he could spend the night doing. Eventually, he mindlessly opened a game to play, one that, along with whatever mildly entertaining show played in the background, was almost enough to distract his mind from Taeyong.

Almost.

It's about fifteen minutes before a notification halts his process in the game.

_I'm here._

He frowns at the screen, at Taeyong's contact name. He'd assume he was kidding, but the other wasn't the humorous type, not to him, at least.

But why would he be there?

Doyoung places his phone down on the armrest of the couch and stands, navigating towards the front door. There'd be no harm in checking, especially if this was some sort of joke or attempt at wasting Doyoung's time, he wouldn't know. And he certainly wouldn't appear desperate, cause he wasn't.

But when he pulls the door open, Taeyong is there, looking as if Doyoung had forced him there against his own will. "I hate you." He comments, like a greeting.

Doyoung is so surprised he can't really find the words to respond, but moves aside regardless, letting Taeyong step inside. The movement reminds him just of how things had went on his birthday, but this time it's Taeyong to initiate a kiss, and Doyoung's hands immediately find his hips, gripping them softly.

He didn't miss him, and he wasn't desperate. Even if his kiss was needy and insistent, and even if he was immediately thinking of how he'd fuck Taeyong right against the door if he could.

After a minute or so, Taeyong too, is the one to pull away, and though breathless, Doyoung makes sure to mutter "Hate you too."

The moment they reach Doyoung's bed, he pulls Taeyong into his lap, resuming a messy, lazy kiss while he moves harsh grips to the older's thighs, squeezing them regularly. 

Maybe he should question it, Taeyong's presence, but then again, Taeyong doing the exact same thing had made everything messy.

Besides, he'd much rather have the other whining for him in his lap. 

"I wanna ride you." He hears when they seperate for only a moment, and Doyoung feels like he could melt. He'd argue almost anything Taeyong said, but not that.

"Mm." He agrees, lips meeting the skin of Taeyong's neck, softly sucking, the older humming and tilting his head to the side.

He thinks Taeyong's prettiest with his own hickies at his skin, and he knows he's not supposed to.

"Doyoung." Taeyong mumbles in complaint, indicating he's taking too long, and Doyoung smirks at that, leaning back to look at the other.

"Impatient?" 

"Shut up," Taeyong whines, tugging at Doyoung's shirt. God, Doyoung loves when he's desperate for him.

When Doyoung starts to pull his shirt over his head, Taeyong moves off of him, allowing Doyoung to shuffle back to lean himself against the headboard of his bed. Tossing the shirt to the side, he starts to undo his jeans; ironically, it'd been him to wear them today, though in his defence, they were always easier to take off than Taeyong's.

He slides them off, as well as his boxers, as Taeyong undresses himself, an urgency to every movement that makes Doyoung just a little eager to rush the process too. He habitually reaches to tug open the nightstand drawer, feeling around for the condom from the few nights earlier and the lube. The moment he's retrieved it, Taeyong takes the bottle from him, barely finished undressing himself. "I'll do it."

Doyoung's lips are parted to argue before he realises, and he exhales a little, sitting straighter. He likes it better when he's the one to prep Taeyong, to fuck him with his fingers, but he can't imagine the shit the other would give him if he said that aloud.

So he settles to watch instead, urging Taeyong the slightest closer as the older coats his fingers in the lube, readying himself for just a moment. Doyoung's seen it a million times, and though it's better when it's his own fingers doing the work, the sight makes his breath hitch in his throat.

Taeyong is quick about it, adjusting to one finger and adding another, and Doyoung can't help but think it's not quick _enough,_ and bring a hand around himself, start a slow, jerking motion with a fist around his cock. He makes a breathy noise, tilting his head back. "Fuck."

He should have expected a comment from Taeyong, even with two fingers knuckle deep within himself, the older mutters shakily. "I was the impatient one?"

"Taeyong—" Doyoung's hips buck into his fist in the slightest. "Stop talking." 

He wills himself to take the half-torn packaging of the condom from beside him, free hand fiddling with it until he's got the condom between two fingers. He doesn't dare to bring his gaze away from Taeyong, how the older whimpers at the addition of a third finger, rocking slightly on his own hand.

Doyoung tugs his lower lip between his teeth, sliding the condom over himself with ease. 

He tries his best not to seem impatient— because he's _not,_ or to exhale in relief when Taeyong moves over to him. He brings hands to the other's waist, letting him position himself, fingers gripping at Doyoung's arm so tight that it might have hurt, hadn't his mind been so occupied with a different type of ache and desperation.

And then Taeyong settles, and Doyoung's cock is buried deep in the other's ass, and fuck, he's still so tight around him, so welcoming, that a low growl leaves his throat, while Taeyong rambles about how good it feels, grips even tighter at Doyoung's arm.

Before he's even moved, Doyoung feels the need to bring him to lean closer, meet their lips in a wet, lazy kiss that Taeyong practically moans into when the younger's free hand finds place at his hip, squeezing once.

He doesn't rush Taeyong to move, mostly because he's not sure he'll last long like this, with a noisy, needing Taeyong readying to fuck himself on his own cock.

He wants his hands all over Taeyong, to explore every inch of skin and every muscle, memorise him, but convinces himself to stay in place and keep the other upright. The kiss slows until their lips barely move, instead just occasionally brush against each other in slow, tired movements, and Taeyong leans back, repositioning himself once more.

With one, abrupt movement, Taeyong rolls his hips forward, a series of whines coming from his lips, and Doyoung feels like he could lose his mind at the sight, the sound. He wants it to last forever.

He can't help but give a movement of his own hips, a mindless desperation for more. Taeyong falters, like he can't hold himself up, before he starts to move his hips forward again, then again, starting a slow pace of movements. "Oh my god— Doyoung, fuck." Taeyong mumbles in a single breath.

He's sure he can't last like this, not when every noise of Taeyong's is so addictive, not when his expression is so pretty when he's riding Doyoung's cock. And the reminder that the sight, the sounds, it's all for him, makes him feel like he could come on the spot.

He gives a noise of his own, something between a moan and a gasp, when Taeyong moves again. 

"Gonna— I'm gonna go faster." Taeyong almost whispers, and it's then that Doyoung can make out the tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Without a thought, Doyoung's thumb reaches to carefully brush them away, and Taeyong softens for just a moment.

"Okay." He's so pretty. Doyoung can't stop thinking it. So pretty with tears in his eyes, so pretty tense around him, so pretty moaning his name, so pretty when Doyoung's inside him, and so, so pretty clinging to him like his life depends on it. 

And Taeyong does go faster, becoming more of a whining mess with every movement, making Doyoung grip at his hip just a little tighter, buck his own hips more frequently. "Taeyong," He breathes, like he has to remember to. "Feels so good."

"Fuck," It's only a few minutes that either can manage, before Taeyong is shaking his head softly. "Can't—" He cuts himself off with what's practically a sob, angling his hips in a direction he hasn't tried yet. 

He's relieved that the other is close too, because Doyoung feels like he's been on the verge of releasing since the moment Taeyong lowered himself onto him. He traces gentle circles against his side with his thumb, reassuring him. "Come for me." He tells the other gently.

For _him._

He's never said anything like that, neither of them have, and even with a mind so busy, it still feels foreign to his tongue.

He can't really see Taeyong's reaction, and it only takes a moment for them to both come to their release together, a mess of noises that Doyoung eventually interrupts with another, barely moving kiss, staying like that until both have rode out their highs, and are breathless, pressed against one another.

There's a long moment of silence before Doyoung finds himself talking. "Stay the night." 

Taeyong, without looking up, hums like he'd misheard something, or is too exhausted to do otherwise.

"It's late. You're tired. You should stay."

It feels even more unnatural than the earlier words, though he can't seem to stop himself. It's never something he's offered, never something Taeyong has asked for— it had always been a wordless agreement. They finished, he left, they didn't talk until they wanted to meet again.

"Is that a joke?"

Doyoung can't help but laugh a little. A breathy, quiet exhale of a laugh. A joke, just as he'd thought earlier. "No."

Taeyong's response surprises him more than anything he's said himself. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soft stuff coming next chapter i promise heheheh
> 
> sooo, i did originally write the first chapter with the intention of it being a oneshot but since a few people wanted me to continue and i love writing dotae's dynamic i thought i would make it chaptered!! i hope i can do it well :D


	3. 03

Although he's already agreed, Taeyong's still waiting for something. An argument to start, Doyoung to get mad at him out of nowhere, take back the offer for him to stay. 

But it doesn't come, and a comfortable silence settles over them. 

Taeyong's not sure how much time passes where both just lay there. He feels like he could even fall asleep, and he can't say he's not considering it, with heavy eyelids and an odd feeling of comfort with Doyoung in his bed.

He hears some movement, Doyoung shuffling to sit up straighter. "Have you ate?"

Taeyong frowns with a new wave of confusion, tiredness fading in an instant. "Ate? Why do you care?" He tilts his head to the side to look at the other.

"I don't," Doyoung answers firmly. "But I'm hungry."

Taeyong examines Doyoung in silence, trying to read his expression. "No, I haven't."

Doyoung glances over to him, where their eyes meet for just a moment. The eye contact is gone immediately, Doyoung looking anywhere but the other.

"Okay," He says. "We'll eat after we shower, then."

"We? Like, together?"

Doyoung sighs exhaustedly. "Do you have to question everything? And yeah, I'm not waiting around for you." 

That sounded more like the Doyoung he knew.

Sure, it made sense convenience-wise, —and it wasn't like they didn't already spend the majority of their time together naked— but it was _showering_ with somebody else, something that felt intimate and careful.

Taeyong watches as Doyoung stretches his arms as if he's had a long nights sleep, and pulls himself up to stand up, bringing most of the loose-fitting sheet that had been lazily draped over the two with him.

He sits up himself, limbs burdened with the slightest exhaustion from the movements. He runs fingers through his hair a few times to calm the mess of it, and looks to the direction Doyoung had left to, disappearing around the corner of his room's bathroom. For a few seconds, he hears humming, opening and closing of cupboards, and then the running of water.

Effortlessly, it makes Taeyong's mind wander. To how Doyoung is when he's not around, to how he is around the apartment on his own— does he like living alone? Though Taeyong appreciates time to himself, he can't really imagine the quiet, the loneliness, especially being used to a roommate as friendly as Johnny. He's never really considered Doyoung in that way before, how he is _normally._

"Are you coming or not?" The other practically shouts over the running water, and Taeyong partially wants to groan in complaint about how tired he is, but he has to agree that he needs a shower, and maybe the idea of sharing that with Doyoung isn't the worst thing in the world. For the sake of convenience, of course.

He brings himself to stand, following in the steps Doyoung had taken earlier, entering the bathroom. On the counter waits what Taeyong assumes Doyoung had been retrieving, two neatly folded towels. 

The other was already in the shower, standing directly beneath the stream of water, leaning his head back and pushing wet hair from his eyes. Taeyong can't help but feel like he's intruding in a place he shouldn't be, but moves inside regardless, pulling the glass door to a shut after himself. It's a little smaller than it seemed, and Doyoung steps aside to let Taeyong share a fraction of the water.

"You have it too cold." Taeyong comments absentmindedly, although there's already a hint of steam weighing on the air around them. Doyoung exhales at that, but brings a hand down to adjust the temperature just slightly, making the water warmer.

Taeyong isn't quite sure where to look, there really isn't anywhere to look _but_ Doyoung, who takes another slight step to the side and grips the older's arm, bringing him closer beneath the water.

He finds himself meeting Doyoung's gaze again, this time the eye contact lasting longer. It doesn't feel awkward, instead almost welcomed. Doyoung clears his throat, looking down to where his fingers still looped around Taeyong's arm.

He gently releases him, though Taeyong still watches Doyoung, how the other retrieves a shampoo bottle, —one Taeyong quickly decides is nicer smelling than he'd imagined Doyoung's type to be— squeezes some into his hand and begins to massage it through his hair, after holding the bottle for Taeyong to take.

He can't help but feel like he'd been right, it _did_ feel like something so intimate, even the gesture of the other handing him a shampoo bottle, so much so that he falls still for a few seconds, like he'd forgot what he's supposed to do with the bottle.

Slowly, he gets about the same amount as Doyoung had, putting the bottle back where he'd seen the other retrieve it from. He starts to massage the brightly coloured shampoo through his hair, focus returning to Doyoung, already halfway through rinsing his own hair. Taeyong's movements slow even further without realising, as he watches the other go through the process of the shower, sometimes standing unmoving under the water for a while, while Taeyong follows along as if it's the first shower he's ever taken, fumbling with lids of bottles and almost dropping them. 

Doyoung doesn't seem to take much notice, at least not until Taeyong's in the midst of spreading conditioner through his hair, and Doyoung mumbles something about Taeyong taking too long.

And then the other's hands are in his hair, replacing his own, gentle fingers massaging the conditioner through the soaked strands. He can't take his eyes away from the younger, marvelling at how concentrated and determined he looks, as if the action was just as much of a competition as everything else between them always was.

It was becoming a normality now, for them to meet each other's gaze without trying, but this time, Taeyong felt some sort of intention behind it. Doyoung's eyes were on him, movements of his fingers slowing to a stop. One hand moves to Taeyong's waist, while the other lingers at his hair a little longer, eventually sliding down the side of his face, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw. 

Taeyong doesn't have time to wonder how long Doyoung's stare has been on his lips rather than his eyes before they're kissing, though it's nothing like he's used to. Gentle, slow, like what they share is fragile and new. Almost like how a first kiss would be.

And it stays like that, Taeyong waiting for the kiss to grow deeper and messier, for Doyoung's hands to wander and his lips to find his neck. Maybe the whole thing had just been a ploy to get Taeyong to agree to shower sex, and honestly, he probably would, but it stays at just that— a slow, soft kiss between the two of them. 

And he likes it.

Doyoung moves back, almost with reluctance, and clears his throat again. "We should finish up. I'm starving."

Taeyong can't do much but nod, though his own mind is far from food, or anything but Doyoung, really. 

Their kisses are always rushed and without meaning, always to initiate something. But this was different, and he can't place the feeling it leaves lingering in his chest, can't place the intention behind it.

He doesn't say anything, despite the large part of himself that wants to question the kiss, and instead rinses the remaining conditioner from his hair and washing his body much faster than he had done the rest of the shower.

When Doyoung brings the water to a stop and steps out, Taeyong follows, taking one of the towels the other had set out. After a few seconds of drying himself off, he realises he doesn't have any clothes other than the ones he'd worn when he'd come over, Doyoung seems to read his mind, and hums as he lazily dries his hair, messes with it in the mirror. "I'll get you something to wear." He offers, wrapping the towel around his waist.

Again, Taeyong finds himself only nodding. 

There's no arguing, neither rolling their eyes or giving offhand comments. And it's weird and almost feels unnatural, but it's not _bad._

Doyoung returns to his room, and Taeyong is left to eye himself in the mirror as he starts to dry his own hair. His gaze settles on the hickeys at his neck. Most of them are faded, though there's a few new, darkened purple marks at his skin. He can't say he's against them, though for the most part he avoids looking at them, or having them visible at all, as he would with any reminder of Doyoung.

The other is humming again, and reenters to leave a small stack of clothes at the counter for Taeyong, already half-dressed himself. 

Taeyong only watches in the mirror's reflection, and Doyoung leaves without another word, the echo of his footsteps lasting longer this time, telling Taeyong he's gone further than his room, presumably to the kitchen.

He exhales softly, turning to the set of clothes Doyoung had left for him. He gets dressed, the loose-fitting shirt and sweatpants the other had picked out for him feeling oddly comfortable, and of course, they smelled like Doyoung, in that faded, welcoming sort of way.

Taeyong brings a hand through his still-damp hair, and lingers in front of the mirror for a few more moments, motivating himself to join the other, as much as the unusualness of it all made him unsure.

Eventually, he wills himself to leave the room and move to the kitchen. It's almost humorous, the amount of times he's visited Doyoung's apartment yet he barely feels like he's actually _been_ in it. 

When he enters, Doyoung is still humming, swiftly moving between drawers and cupboards, expertly gathering what he needs to make Ramen.

Taeyong moves to quietly sit at a stool by the counter, eyes remaining on the other. He's met with the same wave of tiredness from earlier the moment he sits down, and fights back a yawn.

When Doyoung takes notice of his presence, his humming fades to silence, and for a while he just navigates the kitchen, starting to prepare the food. After a while, he speaks up. "Tired?"

Taeyong had moved his stare to the counter instead, but quickly looks up at the question. "Mhm." He answers with a softness he doesn't recognise, at least not when he's talking to Doyoung.

"You're a dancer, right?"

Taeyong almost feels like laughing. It has to be funny, how much time he's spent with Doyoung, and how little they know each other. "A choreographer, yeah." He nods once.

"Mm," Doyoung hums, not looking up. "Guess that is tiring."

Taeyong doesn't say anything to that, assuming the conversation, —if it could even be called that— was over.

"What made you like dancing?"

The older's gaze focuses on Doyoung, watching his every movement. It's not a rare question; in fact he'd pretty much rehearsed an answer with the amount of times it'd been asked, but Doyoung asking— that felt completely different.

"I guess it's kind of like an escape," Taeyong looks back to the counter, runs his fingertips in circular patterns over the surface. "Nothing else matters when I dance. Have you ever tried it?"

"Not really. I don't think dancing's my thing."

"What is?"

Doyoung exhales, pausing what he's doing for a few seconds to think. "Acting, mostly. I did a lot of theatre growing up, fell in love with it. Same reasons why you dance. It's a nice escape, being someone else. Pretending to, at least."

"Acting?" Taeyong repeats. That made a lot more sense— why it was always so _hard_ to read him. 

"Yeah," The other answers. "Singing too."

Taeyong could definitely see that. "Well, are you good?"

Doyoung laughs. _Laughs._

Taeyong finds an automatic smile at his lips. He'd made Kim Doyoung laugh, and for a reason he couldn't name, it made him feel good.

"I mean, I'd hope I'm good. A lot of people have told me I am, and I'd be pretty offended if they'd been lying to me." Doyoung spoke, beginning to serve the Ramen evenly into two bowls he'd earlier retrieved.

"Then let me hear you sing," Taeyong suggests. "I'll be the judge of that."

Doyoung is quiet, considering, for so long that Taeyong thinks he might actually do it. 

"Another time," He decides, taking both of the bowls and moving to stand at the counter opposite Taeyong. He places both down, pushing one in Taeyong's direction. "I'm dying to eat this."

Taeyong thinks it sort of sounds like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i really hope this chapter doesn't end up boring, i wanted to make sure i took it extra slow with the soft stuff :,) 
> 
> in good news, i've planned this fic out properly, including the ending, which i'm super excited for! i'm guessing it'll come out to maybe 8-10 chapters total, but it might be more if i think of more plot points to add (which is very likely, because again, i ADORE dotae and their dynamic in this fic, it's probably the most self-indulgent fic i've ever wrote T____T)
> 
> and in other good news, resonance pt 2 releases today!! if you're reading this after, what's your fav new song? 
> 
> and whoops, this chapter's notes are already super long, BUT i wanted to thank you guys for such nice comments on this fic!! it's so motivating and lovely to see people enjoying reading it and dotae <3 i'm gonna get started on chapter 4 right away! i'm absolutely in love with writing this (usually by a third chapter of a fic the writer's block has hit HARD, but i'm more motivated than ever :0) and i hope i can make it as enjoyable as possible for anyone reading!! :D


	4. 04

Doyoung wakes up peacefully.

When his eyes reluctantly open, there's a decent amount of light in his room, telling him it's late into the morning. It brings a peacefulness into the atmosphere, only small sections of sun intruding through the curtains.

It takes him a moment to register the weight at his shoulder, and then the memory strikes him that _Taeyong_ is there.

Taeyong, asleep with his head at Doyoung's shoulder, Doyoung's arm loosely around him, keeping him at his side.

He looks content, and Doyoung realises he feels content too, with the other there. Almost like whatever was between them was something normal.

He's beyond going back to sleep himself, but can't seem to find the desire to move and wake Taeyong, so he stays there. For a while, he looks to the ceiling; thinking. Wondering how on earth he ended up asleep with someone he didn't even think he liked in his arms.

Doyoung sighs slightly, letting his hand move to rest at the back of Taeyong's head. Gently, his fingers run through the other's hair, and the motion relaxes himself. Taeyong's hair is always soft to the touch, but he thinks it's even softer from the night before.

He stirs in the slightest, and Doyoung wonders if it's his own doing. 

Taeyong makes a sleepy noise, slightly shifting, and Doyoung moves his hand from his hair, resting at the space behind him instead. 

Taeyong stretches, and seems to take notice of Doyoung's presence in the same, slow realisation as he had earlier. 

"Hey." Doyoung greets softly, and the other hums.

"Hi." Taeyong answers.

"You have anywhere to be today?" 

Taeyong exhales, partially sitting up. "I'm meeting someone," He hums. "For lunch, though."

"Meeting someone?"

Why did Doyoung tense at that? 

"A dancer," He elaborates, and Doyoung sees a hint of a smile at Taeyong's lips. "Why? Jealous?"

"No." Doyoung answers firmly, sitting up as well. "Why would I be jealous?"

It feels more like he's asking himself than the other.

Taeyong shrugs, closely watching Doyoung's movements. "I don't know. You're full of surprises lately."

"Mm?" Doyoung hums. "But you like it, right?"

Taeyong moves a little closer, if that's even possible. "Wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Doyoung brings his finger to Taeyong's chin, keeping him in place there. His gaze flickers to his lips for a moment, as if he's asking permission to kiss him. Taeyong gives the slightest of nods, and Doyoung wastes no time, closing the space between them in one swift movement, connecting their lips at once. His hand moves to the side of Taeyong's face, whilst he feels Taeyong's own touch slide down his chest, his stomach, settle at the waistband of his pants.

He lets the kiss grow more intense, more like what they were used to, eventually moving back in the slightest. "Can we—"

"Yeah," Taeyong interrupts, practically mumbling against the other's lips. "Please."

_Please._

Doyoung thinks he might lose his mind.

He nods, gently pushing Taeyong back to encourage the other to lie down. He does as Doyoung wordlessly tells him to, resting his head against the nearest pillow and letting Doyoung move over him, lean down to kiss him again.

Doyoung slides a hand beneath the shirt Taeyong wears, palm flat against the other's stomach, thumb caressing the soft skin. He feels the other arch his back just slightly to gain more of a touch, and makes a soft noise against his lips.

He moves back again, this time Taeyong responding with a hum of complaint. "What do you like?"

"What?" Taeyong mumbles, looking like Doyoung had just asked him to solve a math equation.

"I mean— what turns you on."

"Doyoung," Taeyong exhales impatiently. "We've fucked a million times—"

"And we've never talked about it," Doyoung counters, hand sliding up a little further, bordering Taeyong's chest. "What do you like?"

Taeyong presses his lips together, looking up at Doyoung. "I don't know." He answers, like he's not even trying to consider it. Doyoung gives him a look that tells him he's not dropping the subject, and Taeyong gives another frustrated sigh. "I guess I like compliments."

Doyoung's gaze doesn't leave the other for even a moment. "What else?"

"Doyoung," Taeyong is almost whining for him already, but Doyoung only cocks an eyebrow in wait. "Praise. I like praise. Pet names."

Doyoung hums.

"What about you?" The older asks, and Doyoung feels a little surprised at the question turning to himself, sort of doesn't want to answer.

His fingertips find Taeyong's neck, and gently brush over the marks he'd left. He never liked when they faded. Taeyong, obediently and probably without much realisation, tilts his head to give Doyoung a better view of them. "I like being possessive." He reluctantly admits.

Taeyong gives an exhale of a laugh, looking back up to him. "Could have guessed that. So you were jealous over me, then?"

"I didn't say that." Doyoung argues, and Taeyong rolls his eyes.

How can he be jealous over someone that isn't his?

"Don't have to," He answers, shifting a little beneath Doyoung. "Anything else?"

Doyoung stays quiet for a while, contemplating between a few answers. He brings a thumb to Taeyong's lower lip, swollen in the slightest from their kissing. His lips habitually part for him, and Doyoung makes a soft, encouraging noise. 

He likes the view like this, above Taeyong, being able to see every little reaction to his touches and movements. "I like when I get to prep you."

Taeyong nods slowly, Doyoung's thumb starting to move impossibly softly along his lip. "Sometimes I like how needy you are."

"Sometimes." Taeyong echoes.

All of the time, Doyoung wants to answer, but wills himself not to.

"I like the thought of my fingers in your mouth," He adds instead, and feels the other squirm beneath him. "Do you?"

"Mm." Taeyong responds in a noise, like it's all he can manage. 

"Mm?" Doyoung repeats. "Do you think you'd look pretty like that?"

They've never tried it before— _talking_ during and before sex, other than their regular arguing, and he's already starting to wonder why it took so long.

"Yeah." The older breathes shakily, and Doyoung removes his thumb from his lip, replacing it with two fingers. He lightly presses them against Taeyong's lip, then slides them forward. Taeyong takes them into his mouth in an instant, lips welcoming themselves around Doyoung's fingers.

He sucks gently at them, and Doyoung's temporarily stilled at the sight that's somehow better than he'd imagined.

And sure enough, he _does_ look pretty with his fingers in his mouth, wide eyes looking right back at him. Doyoung slides his fingers in a little further, pressing them against Taeyong's tongue. Taeyong makes a soft noise, sucking harder. 

"God, Taeyong," Doyoung mutters breathlessly, bringing his fingers just a little backwards, then forwards again, falling into a steady pace of practically fucking his mouth with his fingers. "You look so good."

He feels Taeyong gripping at his shirt, urging him closer. "Hmm?" He hums. "Are you desperate for me already?"

Taeyong whines around his fingers. 

"I bet you could get off just like this. Just with my fingers in your mouth. Couldn't you?" Doyoung asks, daring to slip a third finger between Taeyong's lips. 

Taeyong welcomes it, too, not giving much response to the question, and Doyoung's movements speed up a little more. He wants to marvel in the sight forever, but just as much wants to fuck Taeyong already.

It's when Taeyong gives a needy movement of his hips that Doyoung takes spit-soaked fingers from his mouth, licking his own lips. "You did so good, baby. So pretty for me." He's not sure why the praises feel so natural to his tongue, and why the name, —the thought of Taeyong being his baby— almost sends chills down his own spine. He feels like he has to remind himself just who it is he's with, who he's straddling and who he's spoiling with praise, that what's between them is nothing but a deal to get each other off, but his mind feels distant.

"Doyoung," The older mumbles when Doyoung leans down to his neck, giving hot, opened mouth kisses against his skin. "Fuck. Please—"

"Don't rush." Doyoung whispers, and finds a place he likes beneath his jaw, getting to work on leaving a lasting hickey. His baby, _his Taeyong,_ he thinks again.

They're used to rushing, in fact it's all they've ever done since the moment they'd made the agreement. It was always fast and messy, to finish as soon as possible and get on with their day. But it feels different— he wants to take his time, wants it to last as long as possible.

And Taeyong obliges and quietens, and somehow, the other's instant submissiveness makes it harder for himself to keep from fucking him right then and there.

When he's satisfied with the first hickey he's left, Doyoung trails ghostly kisses to the opposite side of his neck, where he starts to suck at the skin to make another. It's after the third that he leans back to admire his work. As he had earlier, Doyoung brushes his fingertips over the darkened marks, and hums. "Do you like being mine, Taeyong?" He finds himself asking, in a tone he can't place himself.

"Yes." The older immediately answers, like he doesn't have to consider it.

Doyoung wonders if he means it, how much is for the sake of the sex.

"Good." He answers regardless, taking the hem of the shirt Taeyong wore and pushing it up, just slow enough to make Taeyong make the slightest noise of complaint. 

Doyoung leans down, leaving kisses up his stomach. He pushes the material up further, moving up to continue the trail of kisses at Taeyong's chest. He feel the other tense beneath him more with every kiss, and glides his hand up to brush his thumb over his nipple, Taeyong giving a soft moan and instinctively arching his back for more of Doyoung.

Maybe he shouldn't like spoiling him, drawing noises out of him with every touch, but he _does_ and feels like he could forever.

"Off." He instructs, with a final push of his shirt, and sits up to tug off his own. Even the few seconds apart from Taeyong feel like too much, and the moment his is off too, he's kissing him, desperate and messy. His hands aren't delicate and planned in movements any longer, and instead quickly exploring his exposed skin. 

Doyoung's fingers eventually find place hooked at the waist of his sweatpants, and the kiss slows. He feels Taeyong's hands on him too, trailing his chest.

When they seperate, breathlessly rest their foreheads against one another, Taeyong is the one to speak up. "You— Can you prep me?"

A breathy noise leaves him. "Yeah," He answers. "I can."

"Doyoung." Taeyong mumbles, before Doyoung can move.

"Mm?" 

"I wouldn't mind," He starts, pauses to consider his words, lips still only centimetres from Doyoung's. "If you were jealous over me, you know."

Doyoung isn't sure what to say to that. Is he supposed to feel relieved? Is he supposed to want to ask if Taeyong wouldn't mind being his, either? 

"Okay." He feels like he has to force himself to say, and presses a brief kiss to his lips, then leans over to the nightstand. He'd left the lube atop of it this time, or rather just hadn't found the need to put it away yet. 

He manages to unscrew the bottle onehanded, the other lingering by Taeyong's side while the older finishes getting undressed, as if he's scared if he doesn't keep it there, he'll be gone.

When Taeyong finishes, Doyoung gently pushes him back to lie on his back. He leaves another lingering kiss at his lips before he busies himself coating his fingers in lube, making sure it's somewhat warm between them. "I'll go slow." He tells, and Taeyong nods with an urgency that tells Doyoung to hurry his movements.

His free hand finds place in another firm grip at Taeyong's thigh, and he makes the older wait just a few moments before he teases a finger at Taeyong's entrance, a small noise coming from him in response. It motivates Doyoung to slide his finger in completely, eyes trained on the other's expression, watching his every reaction.

He pauses a moment to allow Taeyong to adjust, then slightly thrusts his finger back and forth, earning small, breathy gasps from him. "Doyoung— More." He mumbles impatiently.

Doyoung sort of wants to remind Taeyong that he'd said not to rush, but he can't quite bring himself to, not when he wants to hear more of those pretty sounds he makes, and not when he's already practically aching for attention himself.

So he obliges and adds another finger, and Taeyong quickly groans, hips rising to angle Doyoung's fingers the way he wants. 

Doyoung squeezes his thigh softly, encouraging him. "Tell me how it feels."

"Good," Taeyong answers, squeezing his eyes shut when Doyoung spreads his fingers inside of him. "Fuck— Really good."

Doyoung relaxes his grip, instead tracing soothing circles against his skin with his thumb. "Yeah?" He starts to thrust his fingers in and out of Taeyong again, this time faster. "Still want more?"

"Please." Taeyong is begging him, and Doyoung couldn't say no to that if he tried.

He slows to a stop, then adds a third finger, feeling the other tense. Doyoung has to remind himself not to move, as much as the tightness around his fingers makes him want to hurry the process so he can fuck him senseless already. He lets him adjust, his touch at his thigh becoming somehow softer. "You take my fingers so well," He remembers to gently praise, waiting for a cue to move. "So well." He finds himself repeating.

He's not sure the other even hears, and Taeyong eventually takes a long breath, then gives a little nod for Doyoung to move.

He doesn't waste a second, slowly beginning to finger Taeyong again, this time only slightly speeding up. The older's already a noisy mess, finding a grip at Doyoung's arm and squeezing so tight he has to hold back a wince. "Are my fingers better than yours, baby?"

"Yes. Yes, God," He rambles as if it's a single word. "Need you to fuck me so bad. Please."

Doyoung _definitely_ can't say no to that.

All at once, he's moving to get a condom, but Taeyong stops him with another grip at his arm. "No condom." 

Doyoung stills. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I mean— yeah. Unless you want to, which is fine, but—"

"No," He clears his throat. "We don't need one."

Taeyong is usually the insistent one about condoms, —though neither had slept with anyone else in as long as they could remember— once outright refusing they do anything more than handjobs when Doyoung had run out. But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about how it'd feel to fuck him without one, and somehow, he's about to find out.

In a slow but careless, onehanded movement, he slides off his own sweatpants and boxers and shifts closer to Taeyong. He gives his thigh one more squeeze before releasing it, softly urging the older to spread his legs for him.

Taeyong does, and Doyoung quickly finds the bottle of lube again, generously spreading lube along his cock. He's so sensitive that his own touch alone is enough to give him goosebumps, and only makes him hurry, an impatient, breathy noise coming from him.

"Taeyong." He mumbles as he positions himself, numb in anticipation yet still waiting for a cue to move further.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm ready." Taeyong nods slightly, and Doyoung makes sure he makes eye contact with the other, memorising his expression, every detail of his face. 

"Okay." He exhales. 

Doyoung runs his tongue along his lower lip as he carefully lines himself up with Taeyong's entrance, pausing just a moment before beginning to push himself inside, hand finding place at Taeyong's thigh again, while the other holds himself up beside the older. "Fuck, Taeyong." He mutters, pausing once more to squeeze his eyes shut, tilt his head back briefly. He has to take a sharp breath before he moves again, positive he won't last long if he takes any movement immediately fast.

Taeyong whines beneath him, and Doyoung leans down to kiss him, messily and open-mouthed. He doesn't let it last, though, determined to see of much of the pretty reactions beneath him as possible. "Tell me when to move, okay?" He leans back to look at him, how the other adjusts to him. He tries not to focus just yet on how desperate he still looks for him, and how tight and welcoming his hole is around him.

Taeyong nods again, and Doyoung traces gentle circles just above his hip, until the other makes a soft noise, grips his arm.

"Words." Doyoung encourages.

"You can move." Taeyong confirms as if it's an effort, and Doyoung exhales.

"Good," He offers in a soft praise. "Okay."

Doyoung slightly readjusts himself, starting a slow, even pace of fucking in and out of Taeyong, and God, he almost wishes they'd abandoned condoms earlier.

Taeyong is a mess of noises beneath him, rambles of Doyoung's name and curses and him wanting more— for Doyoung to go faster, harder.

And he does.

He doesn't hesitate in speeding up his pace, gripping harshly onto Taeyong's hip. "Fuck, baby. Feels so good." He almost whispers.

There's nothing spoken between them for a while, a comfortable period of just gasps and groans and everything in-between, before Taeyong interrupts it.

"Doyoung." Taeyong moans. "Want you to come inside me."

Whatever breath he has left within his lungs leaves him in an instant. Lee Taeyong is certainly going to be the death of him.

"Mm," He nods once. "I will, baby."

It feels like an effort to bring himself to move even faster, timing his thrusts into Taeyong carelessly. He's close already, but he doesn't slow, doesn't want it to end.

It's when he can't think straight anymore that he leans down to hover by Taeyong's ear. "I'm close." He tells, and Taeyong nods with an urgency, mumbles that he is too. 

And much like the night earlier, they come together, a few lazy kisses and incoherent murmurs between them as Doyoung slows, and they ride their highs together. 

"Yours," Taeyong speaks up, before he's even caught his breath, while Doyoung's leaving small, brief kisses at his jaw. "Right?"

Doyoung stops, freezes, considers the words like he's misheard them. "Yeah. Mine." He eventually answers, leaving one last kiss just below his ear. 

His. Even with a mind as clouded as his, it sticks with him. Does Taeyong even mean it? Was he just saying it for the sake of knowing that Doyoung liked being possessive? Did he really even _want_ to be his?

Of course he didn't.

And why would he? They don't even like each other. 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter turned out longer than i thought, oops! i may have gotten a little carried away, (and i edited this really lazily :P) i hope it's enjoyable regardless!
> 
> i already have most of the next chapter written, so expect it soon!! (spoiler, i hope you guys like flashbacks) i'm having so much writing this fic and dotae in general! <3


	5. 05

Taeyong exhales heavily. 

Dancing is supposed to be his escape, it always has been; when he struggled in school with his grades, he'd dance, and he'd feel like everything would be fine, like he could focus again.

And when he was suddenly presented with the dilemma of his sexuality— facing it, telling people, dancing was always what he could go back to, like it was a home away from home. Whoever he was, whatever he went through, he could still dance.

At any point of his life, dancing was there, and the only thing that completely cleared his mind, and offered a temporary escape from everything that troubled him, everything that worried him.

But then there was Doyoung.

Like with everything else, Doyoung was different. 

Thoughts of him still weighed heavy at his mind even when he was dancing. When he'd try to get started on a choreography, every idea felt like it was stuck behind a barrier— and those ideas that he could access, he couldn't interpret with his body, like they were lost in translation.

So he'd spend hours just pacing in front of wall length mirrors, desperately waiting for his mind to stray from Doyoung and instead to something actually productive.

It never did.

Because he couldn't make sense of it, of whatever it was between them. Why things felt _different_ now. 

It was a simple deal between them— They met up when they wanted to, they fucked, and then they moved on. Hating each other was a benefit in the situation, it made the agreement completely no strings attached. It was supposed to be that simple, at least.

Taeyong sits at a leather couch in the particular practice room, eyes firmly on his own reflection in the large mirror. He retrieves his phone from his bag left beside the couch, and scrolls through unread notifications carelessly, until he's sure Doyoung's name isn't there.

It was never an explicit part of their deal, to not talk unless it was arranging to meet up, but rather something that just went unspoken. But what else can he do when the other won't stop nagging at his mind?

They hadn't spoken since Taeyong had left Doyoung's apartment in a rush to make his meeting over lunch, —a dancer from Japan named Yuta, who he'd taken an instant liking too, though he was sure he'd took notice of the amount of hickeys Doyoung had left at his neck— and he imagined that was the way it should be.

They never called either, nothing but short, to the point texts.

There was a first for everything though, Taeyong concludes.

He presses the other's contact, watches the screen for a moment before he brings the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing.

"Taeyong?" Doyoung's voice comes sooner than he expects, and for just a second, Taeyong thinks he hears something of concern in the tone.

"Hi." He greets, with a gaze wandering over a blank wall. 

"Is something wrong?" 

Good question, Taeyong thinks. 

"I don't know," He admits. "Are you busy?"

"No, I'm home. Why?" There's no sense of annoyance in Doyoung's tone, nothing Taeyong usually recognises within it.

"I need to talk to you. I just— I don't get it." 

Doyoung is quiet for a moment. "Don't get what?"

"I don't get _us._ " He looks to his lap, where his free hand rests. "Or you— I don't get it."

Taeyong pauses, but when Doyoung doesn't say anything, he continues.

"I don't get why one day you're telling me to leave, and then another day you want me to stay like I'm someone that matters," He shakes his head absentmindedly. "And I don't know why I can't stop thinking about it— About you, about being with you. Fuck, Doyoung, it doesn't even make sense."

Doyoung is still quiet, so quiet that Taeyong almost thinks he's hung up without his own realisation.

"I don't really get it either," Doyoung eventually speaks up from the other end of the call, sounding further away from the phone. "But I know something's different, and I feel—"

He pauses, exhales.

"I don't think I want to hate you anymore."

Taeyong is the one to fall silent at that. The words are a partial answer to what he's been wondering, but at the same time something that brings a million more questions to his mind. Why? What had changed things? What did that mean for them, their deal?

"I don't... think I want to either." Is what leaves him instead.

He wonders what Doyoung's doing, on the other end of the call. He wonders if the answer surprises him, if the other has that always-hard-to-read expression even when he's not around to see it.

"It's nice with you," The younger starts. "When we're not arguing, hating each other. But it's all we're used to, I guess—" Taeyong notices a difference in Doyoung's tone towards his last words. "I don't know. It's complicated."

That felt like an understatement.

"Yeah." He agrees regardless, moving to sit straighter against the rather uncomfortable couch. 

There's another period of silence, where both wait for the other to say something.

"What made you hate me?" 

For nothing more than a moment, Taeyong thinks Doyoung is laughing. "You were always better than me in school."

"What?" Taeyong frowns. "We weren't even in the same—"

"Didn't have to be."

"—And your grades had to be much better than mine."

"It wasn't about _grades,_ it was just about you." Doyoung exhales. "Everybody liked you without you even having to try. Even teachers talked about you, like you were the standard."

Taeyong feels something he can't identify— guilt? Why would he feel guilty for that?

"We never even talked." He adds in a mumble. No real conversations, at least— only shared glares, muttered insults towards one another. It was an instant hatred, they didn't need to talk to know that.

"I know. But we had mutual friends. They talked about you, just like everyone else did," Doyoung answers. "Even when you graduated, everything still felt like it was about you."

"You were jealous." Taeyong concludes.

"Yeah. Wanted what you had, couldn't get it." The other confirms, and Taeyong hears shifting once again. It makes him wander all over again, what he's doing, if he's sitting or standing, if he'd been in the midst of doing something around his apartment when Taeyong called.

He looks to his hand again, presses his thumb and pointer finger together. "Are you still jealous?"

Doyoung seems to fall quiet to think. "In a different sort of way."

"How?" 

"I'm not jealous _of_ you anymore," Doyoung answers. "I'm more— Jealous over you, I guess."

Taeyong thinks of the few days before, when jealousy was brought up there. 

And he'd meant what he'd said; he didn't mind it, liked it, if anything.

"Why don't we start over?"

"Hm?"

"You're not jealous of me," He repeats. "And we don't want to hate each other anymore. Why don't we start over?"

"Like, normal people?" Doyoung questions, and Taeyong finds a smile forming at his lips.

"Yeah, whatever that is."

"Sure," The younger agrees. "I can take you on a date, then?"

"A date?" 

"That's what normal people do, isn't it?" Doyoung goes on, like what he's proposed is the most casual thing in the world. And maybe it should be, with everything they've done together considered. 

"Are you free tomorrow?" He continues. "At 10, maybe?"

"I guess so—"

"Cool. Tomorrow, then. You know that coffee place by my apartment, right? At the corner of the street?"

Why does it feel like Doyoung's planned this before?

"Yeah." 

"I'll see you there." Doyoung concludes, and Taeyong feels like his head is spinning; but somehow in a good way, he thinks.

How did he end up agreeing to a date with Kim Doyoung?

And why is he looking forward to it?

_Taeyong didn't think parties were his thing._

_Sure, he got along with everyone well, he liked being with others._

_But parties— they're loud, crowded, quickly exhausting and overwhelming._

_And he's not a drinker in the slightest, instead a pathetic lightweight, he'd realised on his graduation night, where he actually thought he was going to die on Johnny's couch._

_So he sticks to just one cup, one he's already nearing the end of from habitually sipping at it whenever he's between conversations with already wasted friends and friends-of-friends, drinking a little extra after a particularly passionate rant from Mark Lee, about how 'hot Donghyuck is', quickly followed by his apologetic friend Jeno, who'd taken the other away, insisting that, no, Mark didn't have to text Donghyuck again to remind him that he's hot, he definitely knows by now._

_It's not long until he looks down to an empty cup, and after a glance in Johnny's direction, one that told him his roommate, and ride home, isn't set on leaving any time soon, he figures another won't hurt. Maybe he won't mind being a little tipsy, making the rest of the night move faster._

_There's a set of filled cups on the kitchen counter, and honestly, he's not even sure what it is that's in them, but he likes the taste. So he takes another, and downs it a little faster. It makes the party atmosphere better, even leaving Taeyong with a sort of lingering buzz._

_"Taeyong!"_

_He looks up to find Jaehyun, clearly much more drunk than himself, approaching, and smiles slightly at the other. "Hey."_

_"Johnny's cool, isn't he?" Jaehyun asks, with a goofy grin at his lips, showcasing deep dimples. "Man, he's cool. Funny. You two rooming together now?"_

_"Yeah," Taeyong can't help but laugh, though nothing's funny. "We just—"_

_"Oh, fuck, is that Mark? I haven't seen him in forever," Jaehyun rambles, gaze towards the kitchen. "Hey, Mark! Taeyong, Can you hold this—"_

_Taeyong isn't sure what happens, but all at once, there's Jaehyun's drink all over him, soaking the lower half of his white shirt._

_"Shit, I'm sorry," Jaehyun apologises, holding Taeyong's shirt for a moment to examine the wet material, then looking around. "I can get you a towel or something."_

_"No," Taeyong exhales, shaking his head. "It's cool. I've got it. Go talk to Mark. I'm sure he's got a lot to tell you."_

_"Oh? Are you sure?"_

_"Yeah," Taeyong brings another smile to his lips. "It's fine, Jaehyun."_

_Jaehyun watches him for a moment, examining him. "Okay." He concludes, and offers another one of his own, bright smiles. "See you around."_

_Taeyong nods, and watches Jaehyun start to leave before moving himself, heading for the stairs._

_"Oh dude, Jaehyun! Have you ever noticed how _hot_ Donghyuck is? I mean, he—"_

_In a way, he's sort of grateful for the excuse to go upstairs, where he's sure it's much quieter. His head well and truly hurts by now, and he's not sure how much more drunk social interaction he can take. When he reaches the top of the stairs, he places his own, half-emptied second cup on a small table, and God, who's house was this again? His minds already a mess._

_He finds what he assumes to be the bathroom, and is readying himself to knock and potentially interrupt whoever might be in there when the door opens, and someone walks directly into him. Taeyong stumbles backwards a little, balance particularly hard when there's already alcohol in his system, but quickly realises who it was he'd ran into— Kim Doyoung, of all people._

_He'd seen him around once or twice since he'd graduated, but the other still wore the same bitter expression of hatred for him._

_"Maybe watch where you're going?" Doyoung mutters, not sparing a second glance to Taeyong and walking directly past._

_"You ran into me." Taeyong corrects._

_"You shouldn't have been standing there!" Doyoung calls without looking back once, nearing the top of the stairs._

_"What the fuck is your problem?" He isn't sure where his own tone comes from, how much of it's to blame on his tipsiness, and how much is from the pent up anger of Doyoung treating him like shit._

_Doyoung stands still at that, like he's changed his mind about leaving._

_"My problem?" Doyoung repeats, in a tone Taeyong hasn't heard from him before. Frustration, annoyance, he's heard that. But this was different— anger, hatred. "Is you."_

_"I haven't done anything to you!" Taeyong's voice doesn't come off anywhere near as strong, instead like he's just tipsy and suddenly overly emotional, which yeah, maybe he is._

_Doyoung exhales, turns, makes his way partially back. "You don't have to."_

_"I don't have— Fuck you, Doyoung, okay?" Taeyong usually could have brushed off Doyoung's efforts, but tonight was different. "You're a dick."_

_"Real creative." The other mutters._

_Maybe if Taeyong were just a little more sober, he'd notice that Doyoung was coming closer, approaching him directly._

_"Yeah. At least I have that. What was it you were known for around school?" Taeyong pretends to think. "Oh! Right, nothing. I wouldn't even know your name if you weren't so insistent on being a complete fucking asshole to me every opportunity you got for no—"_

_"Shut up." Doyoung cuts him off, but doesn't move away. "You're just not used to not having everyone kiss your ass constantly, right? God, I can't stand you, you think you're so—"_

_"Then why are you still here?" Taeyong takes his turn to interrupt. He'd realise how challenging he'd sounded, again, if he were a little more sober._

_Doyoung looks at him for just a moment, and then there's a hand at Taeyong's side, pushing him towards the nearest wall of the hallway, another firmly placed to the side of him. Doyoung is close, his body could press against Taeyong if he wanted, so close that Taeyong can smell the same alcohol at his breath. And maybe he's more drunk than he thought, but he _likes_ it like that._

_"I was here first." Doyoung mumbles close to Taeyong's ear, and even pressed against the wall with Doyoung hovering over him, the older can't help but roll his eyes at the childish answer._

_"Fuck you." He says again, after a moment determining he can't come up with much more of an insult._

_"Mm? That's all you've got?" Doyoung hums, and somehow, he moves closer._

_And Taeyong realises his lips are hovering close to his own, and he can practically taste what he'd been drinking earlier._

_"Tell me when to stop." The younger tells him in a rushed whisper, and then they're _kissing,_ an angry, rushed, drunken kiss. Doyoung's hand that isn't pinning Taeyong to the wall is at his soaked shirt, moving it, an open palm exploring his skin, and Taeyong finds himself wanting anything but for Doyoung to stop._

_Everything feels fast and blurred, they're from the wall to the bathroom, door slammed shut and locked, and Doyoung's lips are back at his, and Taeyong's sat at the bathroom counter, the other between his legs, fiddling with the zipper of his jeans._

_There's an urgency to it all, a rushed messiness, Taeyong's hands in Doyoung's hair, Doyoung tugging Taeyong's jeans halfway down his thigh. There's no words between them, and more importantly, no Taeyong telling Doyoung to stop. He realises, even tipsy and irritated, he doesn't want him to._

_Taeyong wills his hands to move down Doyoung's body, feeling like he's alternating between everything and nothing making sense. He somehow undoes Doyoung's jeans with a lot less trouble than the other had with his own, something he'd definitely gloat about hadn't his lips already been so occupied._

_Doyoung's beats him to it though, and Taeyong doesn't think rational thoughts have ever left him as fast as they do when Kim Doyoung, —Kim _fucking_ Doyoung— starts giving him a handjob._

_"Fuck." He has to break the kiss to mutter. Doyoung doesn't waste anytime with starting off slow, fingers wrapped firmly around him, effortlessly working up and down like he's down the whole, drunken handjobs in a bathroom thing before_

_Doyoung doesn't say anything, just works his hand on Taeyong's cock, sometimes slowing to thumb pre-cum in circles at his slit._

_Taeyong _hates_ how good it is, how much he likes it, and how noisy he's being. Sometimes Doyoung kisses him to shut up, and sometimes he just lets him fight against whines and moans._

_Even in the state, Taeyong reminds himself that he doesn't want this just about himself, and he certainly doesn't want to give Doyoung the bragging rights of having done something for Taeyong that the other hadn't returned._

_So his hands, that had wandered to grip at Doyoung's arm and the counter, returned to his jeans, tugging them down as minimally as possible, moving aside his boxers._

_And fuck, he thinks, the moment he takes Doyoung's length into his hand, of _course_ he had to be bigger than him._

_Maybe it's the messiness of his thoughts, maybe it's the constant competitiveness, but he doesn't hesitate either, and firmly brings his own fingers around Doyoung's cock in a tight fist, immediately feeling hips fuck into his hand, something that almost makes him whine again, louder than the rest._

_Eventually, he falls into a pace of moving his hand up and down along him, and that's when it really strikes him for a second time, that he and his enemy of sorts, are mindlessly giving one another handjobs._

_But the realisation isn't enough to stop him, in fact, he likes the knowledge of it, something that feels embarrassing to even admit to himself._

_Doyoung is kissing him again, and Taeyong's sure it's to quieten him— he'd thought there'd been voices from the direction of the stairs, and neither quite wanted to be walked in on in the midst of it all, especially with one another._

_But the kiss is just a little different from the ones earlier, a little slower, a little gentler._

_And the difference is nice._

_The revelation is enough to make Taeyong pull away from it, and when Doyoung leans in to resume the kiss, Taeyong shakes his head gently. The younger takes the hint, instead leaning his forehead against Taeyong's, and after a moment of slowing his movements, increasing his pace, making Taeyong gasp._

_He wills himself to mimic the speed, yet he's the once to breathlessly mutter, "Mmh, fuck. I'm gonna come."_

_Doyoung is quiet for a moment, then makes a noise like he's been holding in a breath. "Me too."_

_Hearing this, Taeyong forces his already tiring muscles to cooperate and move faster, whatever competitive nature Doyoung brings out of him is insistent, and it seems to be for the other too, a wordless battle to make the other come first._

_And Taeyong loses, eventually, Doyoung coming just a moment later._

_Neither are really sure what to do after that, both lingering and catching their breath._

_"We should do this again," Doyoung suggests, when he moves away from the other to pull up his jeans, fix his hair. "If you want."_

__Again?_ _

_Taeyong can't quite find it in himself to move from the counter yet, and it's only then that he realises how badly his head hurts._

_But for once, Doyoung's idea isn't bad— doing it again, making it a regular thing even, it wasn't horrible. It even made sense, if he thought about it. Granted, he probably wasn't in the state to be thinking too deeply about anything. "Yeah. Sure."_

_Doyoung nods. "I'll get your number from someone."_

_And then he's gone, leaving the bathroom and pulling the door to a close after himself.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh i had so much fun writing the flashback!! i hope it's as enjoyable to read as it was to write, even if it's another sorta longer chapter, heh
> 
> and also, is the italics for the flashback annoying or hard to read or anything? i realllyyy wasn't sure how to format it, so if anyone has any opinions about it please let me know!!
> 
> again, expect the next chapter soon as it's already written!! i'm fairly sure i can safely say there'll be ten chapters now, if i stick to my plan for the rest of my fic :00
> 
> last thing!! it's probably a long shot, but if anyone is interested in being friends, let me know!! the community here is so lovely and i'd adore having fellow nctzen writer friends that i can discuss fics and such with, and nct in general!! i don't use much social media anymore though, so if you'd like to talk to me about that sorta stuff tumblr or discord would be great to connect on! ^___^


	6. 06

Doyoung can't name a time where he's ever been nervous.

Of course, he's human, he has waves of distracting, lingering nerves when he has an audition, or when he'd participate in school plays when he'd been young and the idea of being in the spotlight was fresh and intimidating.

But he never really got _nervous,_ and he can't believe that he's actually experiencing the feeling at the idea of a date with Lee Taeyong.

The place he'd chosen was one he went almost everyday, one he was comfortable and familiar with, one where every staff member knows his name and order— but now it feels new, like he's wandered into a city he's never once visited and found himself in the nicest looking building.

He can't believe he's nervous about it, about being on a date; a real, literal date with Taeyong, someone he's known since high school yet never publicly spent time with, or do anything but share messy hookups and heated arguments with, really.

The nerves hadn't set in until he'd readied himself to leave his apartment, and for once he was overthinking things. Like his outfit, was it too fancy? Should he abandon the coat he'd chosen? It wasn't that cold outside, he definitely didn't need to. But was a plain shirt and jeans without it too casual? 

He was certainly being ridiculous, he'd been the one to initiate the date, after all. 

He opted to keep the coat.

Doyoung looks at his phone. 9:49.

Had he got there too early? 

He exhales, locking his phone and pushing it into one of the large pockets of his coat. He hates being so overly aware and questionable of everything he does, all because of Taeyong.

Really, he can't remember the last time he'd gone on a date. Had he ever even been on an actual date? What did a date even _mean?_ He'd had plenty of sort of dates with friends, but those weren't dates, because they were friends, but an actual date is different— What if he doesn't treat Taeyong properly? He's not even used to treating him decently, he's definitely going to mess something up.

He's overthinking.

He taps fingers gently against his usual table. It was fairly quiet at this time of morning, and he sort of liked that about it. It wasn't all too early, late enough into the day that most had already came in and out for their morning coffee, leaving only a few people sat around.

"Hey." 

Doyoung looks up to see Taeyong approaching the table, looking a mixture of relieved he'd got the right place, and something else— shy, maybe? Nothing he's ever seen before from him.

He stands, and he finds an instinctive arm reaching to Taeyong, and then he questions it, and brings it back to remain awkwardly at his side. "Morning," He greets, gesturing to the table. "You ever been here before?"

Taeyong, for just a moment, gives him a small smile. Maybe it's at the newness, the awkwardness of it all, or maybe something else. He sits down, and Doyoung does the same across from him. "No. It seems nice, though. Quiet."

"It is," Doyoung agrees, sparing a glance around like he's confirming it with himself. "I spend a lot of time here." He's not sure those words feel like he's revealing something vulnerable about himself. Maybe he is, if you count the reliance on caffeine he's developed.

"Really?" The older questions, leaning forward. "How many people do you take on dates here, then?" He asks with a slight teasing tone, and another accompanying smile to tell Doyoung he's joking.

And Doyoung finds a smile at his lips too, glancing down to the table until the expression slightly fades. "That's just you." Though it's a joke, he answers genuinely. "I didn't— I never saw anyone else since we..."

Since they what? Made a deal to fuck with no strings attached?

"I didn't either." Taeyong's answer comes bearing a reassurance that Doyoung can't identify.

Doyoung nods. For a moment they're both silent, thinking over the conversation they'd had over the phone. "I know this is awkward." He starts, almost as if it's an apology.

"First dates always are." 

Doyoung likes that answer. As somehow nerve-inducing as the idea of a first date with Taeyong is, he likes it. Likes the idea of starting over, likes the idea of feeling _normal_ with him.

He reaches his hands across the table, taking one of Taeyong's between them. Both of them glance down to them, and Doyoung gives Taeyong's a gentle squeeze, runs a thumb over his knuckles. 

It should feel weird, he thinks. But it doesn't, it feels natural, it feels even better than the contact they've shared before.

It sort of makes them seem like a couple.

He has to will himself to slide his hands away, clear his throat a little. "What do you want? I'm gonna order." He hums.

"About that." Taeyong leans back in his seat, moving his hands to his lap. Doyoung already misses the touch they'd briefly shared.

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I don't like coffee." Taeyong admits, like he's been found guilty of something.

Doyoung fakes an offended gasp. "You're kidding, right?"

Taeyong giggles. 

And Doyoung can't believe he practically gets butterflies at that.

"No, I'm not," He's smiling, shaking his head. "Wasn't sure how to bring that part up, but I wanted to come here anyway. It's nice, seeing where you like to be."

Again, Doyoung smiles too, without much realisation. Were Taeyong's smiles always this infectious? "I don't know how you do it. I couldn't survive without coffee."

Taeyong gives a lighthearted shrug, smile still at his lips. "Just never really liked it."

"Hot chocolate?" Doyoung suggests. "I've heard they're pretty good here."

The older nods, gaze fixated on Doyoung. "Yeah. I like it."

Doyoung pushes himself up to stand, nodding. "Got it."

He heads over to the counter, greeting the employee with a little nod and ordering his usual, alongside a hot chocolate for Taeyong. He's glad Jungwoo gets them from time to time and he knows they're decent, he'd hate to have Taeyong's memory of this place be a bad drink.

After he pays, and moves to the side to wait for the drinks, he glances over his shoulder to the other, watching him for a few moments. Taeyong sits patiently, looks around and out the window, fiddles with his fingers. 

And Doyoung feels sort of content looking at him, knowing the older is there for him, waiting for him.

He eventually returns to the table with both drinks, placing the hot chocolate in front of Taeyong. The other smiles briefly and thanks him, and Doyoung expects them to fall into a usual silence, but they don't.

Taeyong wraps his fingers around the warm cup. "I wanna know more about your acting." He says after taking a sip.

Doyoung watches the other, reading his expression. Really, the idea of a date between the two of them was odd enough that he didn't know a single thing of what to expect, but he really wouldn't have guessed Taeyong would be so willing to take an interest in him, in something about his life.

"Like what?" He questions, looking down to his own cup, tracing a finger around the lid.

Taeyong shrugs, shuffling his chair a little more forward, closer to Doyoung. "I don't know. What kind of stuff do you do? What have you done? What do you want to do?" He lists off, looking thoughtfully to the ceiling. 

"I haven't done anything big yet, really," He answers. "A few small roles here and there, mostly. Side characters." Taeyong nods along as Doyoung explains.

"Some more major in web-series. I have one coming up, actually." 

Taeyong practically lights up at that. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's my first main role." Doyoung hums, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a long sip of his coffee.

For just a moment, the other has the sort of 'Why didn't you tell me?' expression, but it's gone in an instant. Because, Doyoung guesses, why would they have told each other anything before a week ago?

"Well, what's it about?"

Doyoung exhales, placing the cup on the table again. "My character is a businessman. Workaholic type. Forgotten how to have fun, doesn't really see a purpose in life outside of work," He pauses for a second, contemplating his next words. "And then he meets his love interest— a woman the complete opposite to himself. And you can probably guess the rest. Cliche romance stuff. They learn from one another, make each other better people."

Taeyong nods along. "That role fits you."

"Why? Because I'm no fun?" 

The older smiles down at his hot chocolate. "No. I can just see you pulling it off," He looks up, and their eyes meet. "Which makes me think you're a good actor. You haven't started filming yet?"

Doyoung shakes his head. "Starting next week in Busan."

"You're going to be away?" 

Doyoung wonders if he's imagining the disappointment in Taeyong's tone.

"Yeah. Not for long, though," He's not sure if that's convincing enough, so he adds, "We're only filming for two weeks."

He's been on trips for the sake of filming things for longer periods of time, but that never really mattered before him and Taeyong were— whatever they were now. Sometimes they'd gone well over a month without meeting up, even nearing two before, so it never seemed like something the other would care for.

"Oh, okay." Taeyong nods, and Doyoung knows he definitely didn't imagine the disappointment this time. "What about your singing?"

"Hmm? What about it?"

"Do you do that professionally, too?" 

Doyoung taps fingers against his coffee cup. "Only a few times. Never really get the opportunity to."

Taeyong nods again. 

"Do you do dancing, outside of choreographing?"

"I've done a few performances with my studio. And competitions since high school." The older answers.

"Did you win them?"

Taeyong smiles, with that same shyness Doyoung had seen earlier. "Most of the time, yeah."

Like usual, Doyoung smiles too. "Have _you_ ever tried singing?"

Taeyong gives an exhale of a laugh. "I could never. Singing is way harder than dancing."

"I don't know about that," Doyoung lifts his cup, noting the weight of it to guess how much was left. "You should try, one day."

"Well, have you ever tried dancing?"

"Yeah, actually," He leans back in his seat, placing the cup flat against the table once more. "It wasn't a pretty sight."

Taeyong laughs a little more, shaking his head. "Really? I didn't know there was something Kim Doyoung couldn't do," Doyoung knows it's a joke, but there's a hint of sincerity in it, somewhere. "Why don't I teach you, then?"

"Teach me?" He repeats, like it's a foreign word he's just learnt. "Why?"

"Because, what if you get a big role and have to play a dancer? You need to have _some_ experience."

Doyoung cocks an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe you don't have to learn that much," Taeyong goes on. "But I'd still like it if you came to the studio. I've been where you spend a lot of time, so it's only fair that you come to the place where I lose most of my sleep, right?"

"Sure." Doyoung agrees all too fast. 

Taeyong smiles brightly at his answer, and Doyoung is met with an overwhelming to kiss him.

He still can't believe they've agreed on anything, let alone a second date before the first is even over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter and the next are sorta shorter than the last few have been, oops! i hope they're still enjoyable to read!! dotae have my heart


	7. 07

Taeyong stretches in front of the mirror, moving his arms above his head.

"You don't _actually_ expect to teach me anything, right?"

He looks over to Doyoung, who lingers warily by the nearest wall, like he's very much out of place and has never stepped foot inside a dance studio in his life.

Taeyong can't help but laugh a little at the other's presence alone, it's endearing that he's even bothered to show up in a place that means so much to him, and he'd even been looking forward to it.

And since their last date over coffee, —coffee and hot chocolate, really— they'd grown into a habit of regular, small text conversations, ones that often left Taeyong subconsciously grinning ear-to-ear, something he'd never notice until Johnny, or his roommate's boyfriend Ten, who'd been staying with them more than ever, pointed it out.

He can't help feel like every day, they're closer to whatever 'normal' is.

And he loves every moment of it.

"As much as I'd like to, I know you. And how stubborn you are," Taeyong watches a smile approach the other's lips. "But you'll at least watch some of my choreographies, right? Then maybe I can teach you something, if you see anything you like."

Doyoung gives a moment of pretend thought, then a dramatic sigh. "If you insist. It's a deal." He grins after that.

Taeyong thinks he's come up with a million choreographies by now, some complete and some barely more than a few vague movements, some to music and some to nothing at all, but he makes his mind up in an instant on which to show the younger.

It's nothing overly complex, as much as knows dances filled with flips and impressive floorwork are bound to win non-dancers over, he usually strays from them, instead focuses on those dances that make him _feel_ something, ones that are passionate and impactful.

He wanders across the room to set up the particular music, the movement of connecting his phone to speakers and selecting a song feeling so habitual that it's robotic, his body moving on autopilot.

Once he's readied it, he moves to his usual place in the centre of the room. As good as things have been going between them, there's still something intimidating about dancing in front of Doyoung, something that makes him feel so vulnerable about sharing something he loves with someone he once hated.

It's nothing like the feeling of dancing in front of crowds and judges. Like always, Doyoung is different. 

And maybe that's a good thing, Taeyong decides.

He wills himself to focus on that, on the good kind of difference about Doyoung, and falls into the rhythm of his movements easier. He likes when he feels like he doesn't have to think about a dance, or calculate every move in his head, when his body does it for him. 

For a moment he even forgets Doyoung is there and watching him, and just dances, effortlessly falling into that feeling he often gets when he does, like no time passes, like he's far away from the world he knows.

The music is over before he knows it, and Taeyong takes a moment to remain in his ending position before he looks to Doyoung's direction.

He's positive he's never seen him look impressed before.

"Wow," The other exhales as Taeyong stands, runs a hand through his hair. "You're... wow."

"Good?" Taeyong fills in the silence once he's caught his breath, and Doyoung smiles at that.

"Yeah. Guess you could say that. Can I see another dance?"

No matter how much time they spend together that isn't the bickering it used to be, Doyoung still manages to surprise Taeyong.

"Sure." He answers after a moment of thought. He unscrews the cap of a half-empty plastic bottle of water, takes a long sip then returns to his phone. "The last choreography I came up with about a year ago, but I'm still making improvements," Taeyong pauses to hum in thought, contemplating between three recent ones he'd made. Eventually deciding on one, he continues. "This one— I only started working on a month or two ago. It's not really finished, but it's one of my favorites." 

He glances over to see Doyoung nodding, and in the brief glance he has in the other's direction, he's sure what he sees is genuine interest in what he's saying. 

It motivates him to go through with it, returning to his place in the centre of the room once he's again readied the music. 

And then it starts, and he lets the music essentially control him. The dance is more complicated than the last, more experimental. The more dances he'd choreograph, the more he'd let his creativity thrive.

It's over before he knows it, and he almost wishes it wasn't. That he could dance without breathlessness and exhaustion taking over him.

"Do you like that one more?" Doyoung asks, and for a moment, Taeyong had again forgotten he was there.

He straightens, and the younger approaches, moving from where he'd been standing by the wall. "Yeah." Taeyong answers.

Doyoung nods, moving close enough to brush some of Taeyong's hair from his eyes. It sort of reminds Taeyong of when they'd showered together. "I can tell. There's a lot more of yourself in it."

He could?

"Really?" He finds himself asking, more disbelief in his tone than he'd intended.

"Mm." The other confirms. "You're really good, you know. It's obvious you love what you do, and—" Doyoung's eyes are trained on Taeyong's expression, and he pauses for a moment. "I'm glad you wanted me to come here. I've never seen you look so content."

Taeyong feels even more breathless than dancing had left him. Doyoung complimenting him genuinely, it felt so odd, but the way it made his heart skip a beat, along with a stinging anticipation at his lips, like the other might kiss him at any moment, he knew it felt right.

"I'm glad you came." He responds gently. "And you're welcome to again, if you ever want to." The offer is nowhere near as subtle as he'd intended for it to be, but that doesn't seem to matter when Doyoung lights up in a smile.

"Of course I will. Once I'm back from filming, it'll be the first place I come."

Oh, yeah. Filming.

Taeyong doesn't know why the thought of Doyoung leaving, —even if it's just for two weeks, and he's only a few hours away— feels like a small stab at his chest. They've gone through periods without talking or being around each other countless times, but that was different. Feelings were different. 

At least, his own were.

"Got it. So, was there anything that stood out that you wanted me to teach you, or what?" He wills himself not to let the mood drop in the slightest, and feels like he succeeds when Doyoung's smile only grows at his words.

"Taeyong," He exhales. "I couldn't do anything you just did if I—"

"How do you know that?" Both of Taeyong's hands find Doyoung's, in one of the movements between them that have lately felt so natural, so right. "Okay, maybe you can't do anything _fancy_ just yet, but—" His hands move to loop fingers around Doyoung's wrists. Slowly, he guides one of the other's hands to his shoulder, then the other to his waist. Doyoung's hand finds place effortlessly. "You can at least learn to slow dance, right? I mean, who knows. If you keep landing these roles, you're bound to have to film a scene with it eventually."

Doyoung laughs softly at that. "Keep landing them? I've barely got my first one, yet."

"You'll get more." Taeyong concludes, his own arms moving to rest at Doyoung's shoulders. "Step left first, like this." He guides the first step to the side, reluctantly bringing his stare away from Doyoung and to the ground instead. When Doyoung follows, he nods.

"Then right." He once more leads in the movement, and lets Doyoung copy after him. "See? Easy as that. You're a natural."

"A natural, hm?" The younger repeats, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, look at you— acting, singing, and now dancing. What can't you do?" He tilts his head, the two falling into an easy movement in the simple steps. Like everything else, it feels effortless. "I still haven't heard you sing, by the way. When will I?"

Doyoung shrugs beneath the weight of Taeyong's arms. "I'm not _that_ great at it." 

It's not like Doyoung to ever not be confident in something. "I'm sure you're perfect." Taeyong finds himself reassuring softly, and feels the other's grip at his waist become just a little tighter.

The conversation ends at that, and though Taeyong almost wants to press the matter of hearing Doyoung sing, he lets it.

Gently, he readjusts his arms positioning and lets his fingers softly run through the hair at back of Doyoung's head, bringing him a relaxing sensation that feels as if it runs through his entire body.

"You look pretty." Doyoung speaks up, words bringing a smile to Taeyong's lips. 

He's not used to the compliments, especially not outside of sex, but he knows he likes them. "So do you, I guess." He adds lightheartedly, gaze alternating between Doyoung's eyes and lips. "I think I'll miss you. Even if you're only gone for two weeks."

Doyoung sighs gently. "I'll miss you too, you know."

"Don't forget about me," Taeyong starts. "When you're a big, famous actor, okay?"

The other grins. "I couldn't forget about you if I tried, Taeyong."

He likes that answer.

Doyoung moves a hand to rest at Taeyong's cheek, brushing soft fingertips against his skin. It was something he always noticed, no matter what it was between them, no matter how they'd feel towards on another, Doyoung's touches were never overly harsh, like Taeyong was fragile beneath his him. 

"Can I kiss you?"

He feels like his heart flutters at the question— something so simple, but so unlike anything else between them.

Taeyong nods.

It feels a lot like the night Taeyong had stayed with Doyoung, when they'd showered together and Taeyong had fallen asleep against the other. Like it was all something normal.

Doyoung leans in, and lets their lips gently meet in a slow, steady kiss. 

Taeyong still runs fingers through the dark strands of Doyoung's hair, leaning just a little against him to rid some of the space between the two of them.

Both let the kiss linger, and even once they seperate, keep their faces only mere centimetres apart.

Taeyong thinks he's definitely going to miss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i'm sorry for this being kind of short!! i hope the length is fine to read!
> 
> but wow, chapter seven alreadyyy :0 only three left!! ah, i'm going to be so sad when i finish up with this fic T_____T i do have a few fics in mind to start when i'm done with writing this, and i'm sure at least one of them will end up being dotae!! i love them too much :P


	8. 08

Doyoung can't sleep.

It's frustrating, because his body is ridden with exhaustion from a week of filming everyday, sunrise to sunset. Trying to get an entire season of a web-series filmed in the span of two weeks is just as draining as it sounds— and as much as he loves every moment of acting, the late nights and early mornings are definitely taking a toll on him, both physically and mentally.

And God, he misses Taeyong.

He'd expected it, considering the amount of enjoyable time they'd been spending together in the recent weeks, he knew that he'd miss the older's presence, but he hadn't guessed just how much he would.

He misses the other's infectious smile, the way he giggles, seeing him do little, everyday things and seeing him dance in the way that so clearly told Doyoung it was what he was destined to do.

And maybe he misses the physical side of their relationship too, maybe enough to crave it.

Relationship. Could he even call it that? Were they friends? Friends who went on dates and kissed? Were they more than that?

He leans back in the armchair of his hotel room. It's probably the most uncomfortable one he's ever sat in, but he finds himself in it in the last few sleepless he's had, when he grows tired of tossing back and forth on the only slightly more comfortable bed.

Doyoung looks to Taeyong's contact name. When he'd first got the other's number from Mark Lee, he'd refused to even save it with a name, leaving it as his number. Eventually, he'd changed it to a simple 'TY' when he grew tired of losing track of their conversations. Now, it was his name, as well as a rose emoji. He'd contemplated putting a heart, but that would definitely be weird when he doesn't know where things between them stand, and the rose felt special, reminded him of a pretty scar Taeyong had beneath his eye.

He knows Taeyong isn't the earliest sleeper, and most of the time tends to keep himself awake working on choreographies, but it's nearing 2 in the morning, and Doyoung finds doubts that the older would be awake by then.

Still, he types a message, and hovers a thumb over the 'send' arrow for a few moments before actually pressing it.

_Hey. You awake?_

There. It's sent.

For a few seconds, Doyoung sits in wait, staring at the screen. When no typing bubbles pop up, he locks his phone, dropping it to his lap. Of course he wasn't awake, he shouldn't be, for one—

His phone lights up with a notification.

_Yeah. Everything okay?_

Doyoung finds himself exhaling, like he's been holding his breath without realising. He takes the device again, holding it in both hands to type with his thumbs.

_Just miss you._

He spends an embarrassing amount of time typing and retyping the few words, contemplating how to phrase it, how to not sound like a complete idiot.

The typing bubbles appear immediately this time, and Doyoung doesn't tear his eyes away from the bright screen.

_I miss you too, Doyoung._

Doyoung runs fingers through his hair. How has it only been a week?

His thumbs are even more reluctant to type the next message.

_I wanted to ask you something._

The reply comes in a few seconds.

_What is it?_

He really hadn't thought that far ahead. He taps fingers against the side of his phone, running his tongue across his lower lip.

_Even if things are different between us_

He sends it, then continues on in a second message.

_We can still have the benefits, right?_

Doyoung sets his phone down once more after that, resting his head against the back of the chair. This time, he's kind of reluctant to check the response he gets. What if it comes across bad? The last thing he wants is for Taeyong to think it's all he cares about. Maybe he's not even making sense in the sleep-deprived, and surely horny state of mind he's in. 

Eventually, he forces himself to look at the new notification.

_Are you thinking about me?_

Well, Doyoung can't go back on his honesty now.

_A lot._

It still feels like an underestimate.

_What about me?_

He hesitates before typing again, after once again running fingers through his hair.

_About being with you. Kissing you. Fucking you. Giving you hickeys. How pretty you look with my fingers in your mouth._

A long exhale falls from Doyoung's lips. Even putting his own words into typing makes him want to squirm in his seat.

When no reply comes for a minute, then another, he starts to think he shouldn't have even brought it up. They'd been doing so well together, and now he's probably messed everything up by bringing it all up, and what if that sent them right back to arguing?

Then his phone lights up again, this time with a photo message, another notification a second later.

_Like this?_

He reads the message first, and barely processes the photo above it.

Taeyong had taken one angled downwards, only showing the bottom half of his face. He had two fingers in his mouth, sucking harshly on them, pressing his fingers down slightly on his lower lip.

Doyoung feels completely breathless.

_Yeah. Like that._

He types the next message before the first has even finished sending.

_Can I call you?_

_Yeah._

Taeyong replies within seconds, and Doyoung lingers over the call button by the other's contact name for a moment, before he presses it.

"Doyoung," He hears after just a moment of ringing, a breathy voice from Taeyong. "I was thinking about you too."

Doyoung can only hum slightly. "Hmm?"

"I need you. I miss you, I—"

"Taeyong," Doyoung interrupts. "We don't have to, if—" He pauses and clears his throat, trying to form the words to express what came to his mind with an already ruthless boner distracting him. "We're not just sex anymore. Don't forget that. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Taeyong's silent, and Doyoung thinks he definitely must have said something wrong.

"I know," The older finally answers, much softer. Doyoung thinks he hears relief in his tone. "I want to. Do you?"

That doesn't even feel like a question. "Yeah. I do."

"Okay, good, because fuck," Doyoung can hear the other moving, and he hisses slightly. "I really need you."

Doyoung's arm that holds the phone to his ear already feels tired and useless. He rests his head back against the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. "How bad?"

"So bad. I'm— Was gonna ride my pillow, thinking of you, before you texted." Taeyong admits, and Doyoung feels as restless as ever.

He starts to tug at his sweatpants. "What's stopping you from doing that now, baby?"

He hears Taeyong swallow. "Nothing." 

"Mm," Doyoung answers. "I'm here. My voice is, at least. Is that enough to get my pretty baby off?"

He thinks he can make out the other whimpering. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Good." Doyoung breathes.

There's movement, and Doyoung can imagine it. Taeyong, needy and whiny for him, desperately straddling a pillow because it's the best thing he can get. Having it between his thighs, rutting against it, moaning for him. God, was this role even worth being here?

He brings his hand beneath the fabric of his boxers and wraps his fingers around his cock. They're no where near as perfectly-fitting around him as Taeyong's, but he's so sensitive the touch makes him gasp.

"Tell me what you're doing Taeyong. How it feels."

Taeyong whines. "I'm gonna start— start moving."

"Mhm?" Doyoung pictures his pretty face, his lips worthy of every kiss in the world. 

He hears a soft moan into the phone, and tightens his fingers around himself, forming a fist. "Doyoung."

"Yeah?"

"Moving. It's nice, but," Taeyong stutters the word, and Doyoung practically melts. "Not— Not as good as you."

"Poor baby," Doyoung whispers. "Don't you wish it was? I bet you could get off just riding my thigh, huh? I'd barely even have to touch you, and you'd fall apart. Don't you think so?" His gaze finds his lap, and God, does it look and feel so empty without Taeyong in it. 

Taeyong makes another noise, louder this time, and something closer to a moan. "I could. Doyoung, it feels— I need you so bad. Please, please, please."

The begging, even though it's for nothing in particular, is enough to make Doyoung fall apart. He starts to bring his hand up and down in fast, even strokes, and lets out a few breathy noises of his own. "I know. Fuck— Go faster for me, alright?"

"Okay." Taeyong almost whispers.

Doyoung brings his thumb to his tip, circling precum around himself and tightening his grip as much more as he can, breath catching in his throat. His eyes slip shut again, and he tries his best to picture Taeyong— Taeyong's hand instead of his own, moving faster, with more urgency. His slender fingers around him, working expertly in the way only he knew how to. His own hips bucking, rising against Taeyong's touch. Another noise escapes him at the thought.

"Doyoung." Taeyong whimpers into the phone, and for a few seconds he'd forgotten he was still numbly holding the phone to his ear, feeling like he'd lose the strength to any moment.

"Taeyong," He answers absentmindedly, and hisses when he starts to move even faster. "I'm here. What are you doing? How are you feeling? Tell me." Doyoung practically chokes out.

"Please, Doyoung," Taeyong's begging again, and Doyoung knows he isn't going to last. "I'm so close it hurts. I need _you_ so bad. Please."

"Baby," Doyoung exhales, and falls into silence for what feels like a few minutes. "Keep going, you're doing so good. I'm close too."

"We'll come together?" 

"Yeah— Yeah, we will. Just like when we're really together."

He tugs his lip between his teeth, sparing more attention to himself, moving faster. 

"Jesus, fuck," He mutters, chewing so harshly at the skin of his lip that he'd probably taste blood if he paid enough attention. "I'm gonna come."

Doyoung hears a noise from Taeyong, followed by a quick, mumbled, "Me too."

He takes that as his final cue to bring his already exhausted wrist to move faster. And it feels so _good_ even if it's just his own hand, even if he's jerked off a million times before, talking to Taeyong, picturing him so desperate for him, thinking of how he's definitely going to fuck him harder than he ever has the next time he sees him—

"Fuck, Taeyong— I love you."

Everything falls silent in an instant.

"What?" 

Doyoung blinks.

Oh no.

"Sorry, I didn't—" 

Didn't what? Didn't mean it? That would be a lie.

He realises the other had already hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to get this up a few days ago, but i very much procrastinated editing it, oops :P


	9. 09

"Doyoung? Like, Kim Doyoung?" 

Taeyong sighs softly. "Yeah. Him."

"I thought you hated that guy." Johnny replies, busy moving around the kitchen in the midst of making coffee.

Like everything else, it reminds Taeyong of Doyoung.

He fiddles with the edge of a cushion sat on the couch beside him, willing himself to focus on anything else. "I did, but," He pauses, presses his lips together. "I don't anymore. Things are really different. I like him a lot."

"But you freaked out when he told you he loved you?" 

Taeyong loves Johnny, really, he's the best friend and roommate he could ever ask for. But there's the overwhelming urge to tell him that he doesn't _get_ it. 

Maybe Taeyong can't blame him for that, his and Ten's relationship was something straight out of a cheesy romance movie he'd watch if he wanted to cry. His and Doyoung's was quite the opposite.

"Can you blame me?" The blonde questions, as Johnny finally moves to join him on the couch, fingers wrapped around the warm mug of coffee he'd made. Taeyong looks at him carefully before continuing. "I mean, one moment we hated each other, and the next— I don't know. What if he starts hating me again? What if we have a fight and then everything just— goes back to what it used to be?"

"I think you're overlooking something." Johnny says, after a long, satisfied sip.

Taeyong brings the cushion into his lap, wrapping both arms tightly around it and pressing it against his chest. "What?"

"Whether or not you love him too." The taller casually adds, like he's discussing something as minimal as the weather. 

And well, Johnny's right. 

He's definitely overlooking that part of things, and purposefully. It was the one thing he wouldn't dare to let his mind dwell on in the days since the call, mostly because he knew the answer, and that felt all too much to admit to even himself.

Better late than never though, he supposes.

"I do." He mumbles, so quiet that he's surprised Johnny doesn't have to strain to hear the words.

He does.

God, he loves Doyoung. 

And it's strange and foreign, love always felt so faraway from him. It was something that happened in books and movies and to people around him, but never Taeyong. And to find it in so quickly and naturally in someone he used to hate, someone he was sure never saw him as anything more than sex— It's odd, to say the least.

"You should focus on that, Taeyong," His roommate continues. "You love each other. That's what matters. The other things, the worries, those are just that. Worries. Loving each other means you work those out. Together."

Taeyong looks to Johnny again, watches his expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Johnny smiles, shrugs. "I don't know. Guess being in love makes you passionate about it."

"Yeah," Taeyong exhales a sigh again, but one that feels like it holds a lot more relief. "Thank you, really."

"Of course."

_I'm sorry._

_Call me back?_

_Hey._

_Can we talk?_

_I miss you._

Taeyong frowns at the messages he's left on read, scrolling up and down habitually. He doesn't know why it's so hard to just say something, and why he's so scared.

As grateful as he is for Johnny's advice, and the realisation it brought him, it brings a new wave of nervousness. Now that he knows it— knows he loves Doyoung, more doubts form in his mind with every minute that passes.

Taeyong breathes slowly, and types a message.

_Are you still coming back tomorrow?_

He locks his phone immediately after, places it on his bed and lays down on his back, staring towards the ceiling.

It's only a few minutes before the phone vibrates beside him, and for a moment Taeyong closes his eyes, then sits up, taking the phone and opening his messages again.

_I'm leaving tonight. Finishing up earlier than we thought._

The typing bubble lingers, then disappears completely.

Taeyong types slower than he thinks he has ever before.

_Can we meet?_

He barely sees the other typing before the next message appears.

_Yeah. I can pick you up?_

Taeyong's heart skips a beat at that.

_Sure._

They leave it at that, and Taeyong goes back to staring at the ceiling for what he thinks is hours. 

It's later than he'd thought it would be when he finally gets the text from Doyoung, telling him he's there.

As much as he was anticipating the others presence after weeks without it, Taeyong wasn't the best at staying up particularly late if he wasn't dancing, especially not when it was well past two in the morning. 

Johnny had long gone to sleep, and Taeyong had kept himself awake by sitting by the kitchen, looking out a window that didn't reveal much of the night, other than faded outlines of surrounding buildings.

Taeyong has to blink a few times, and read the message twice before he registers what the words 'I'm here' mean, and brings himself to stand up. Shoving his phone into his side pocket, he makes his way through the barely-lit apartment, and steps out, closing the door quietly after himself.

It feels like the longest elevator ride of his life, although himself and Johnny only live on the fourth floor. It's cold within it too, but he's not really focused on that, instead on what he's supposed to say, to do.

_Hey, sorry I completely ghosted you for a week, just realised I was in love with you and that terrified me. Hope that's cool._

Something tells him that wouldn't work.

When the doors eventually open, Taeyong slides himself between them, heading through the overly silent building and through the main doors. Only a dim streetlamp gives him any clue of where Doyoung's car is, and when he finds it, there's a surge of relief all over him, like any trace of doubt disappears instantly.

As he moves towards it, parked by the side of the street, —Doyoung was both perfect at parking and driving, like he was with most things, Taeyong knew that by now— the driver's side door opens, and out steps Doyoung, dressed warmly and like he's walked straight off set. When Taeyong thinks about it, he probably did.

He's not sure who approaches who first, but somehow he ends up in Doyoung's arms, pressed tightly against him. He smells like coffee and something else he can't place, and his embrace is warm and welcoming, like everything he'd missed packed into one, immediately perfect feeling.

His own arms wrap around Doyoung too, and the other only squeezes him tighter. Taeyong closes his eyes, and focuses on only him. His touch, his breathing, the way he can feel the rise and fall of his chest, maybe even his heartbeat if he tried hard enough.

There's a million words between them without a single one being said, and Taeyong feels like he could stay like that until the sun rose, long after that, but he knows to say something. "Did you mean it?"

He wills himself to move backwards, enough to get a proper view of Doyoung. He can barely make out the details of his face in the minimal light, and the coldness of the night makes it all the more tempting to move as close as possible again, but Taeyong makes sure to memorise him, his expression, everything about the moment. He's sure the other knows exactly what he means, from the way he tenses against him to the way his breathing sounds more shallow than before.

Doyoung nods, the movement as minimal as possible. "I still do." He says it much like a promise, the same way he'd told Taeyong he'd sing for him one day.

"Good," Taeyong exhales shakily. Whether it be because of the cold, or what he was about to say, he didn't know. "Because, if you didn't— it'd be really awkward to tell you that I love you too."

For a moment Doyoung is still, expression unchanging, and then he relaxes. He _smiles_ and without a thought, Taeyong is too. 

He thinks Doyoung might kiss him, but instead the other brings Taeyong towards him again, presses him against himself so closely that for a second Taeyong can't quite breathe, but that feels like the most unimportant thing in the world when he's in the arms of Doyoung— the person he loves.

For the first time in as long as he can remember, Taeyong feels content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my goddd, one more chapter left!! :0 it should be up in the next week/before the end of the year, as much as i wanna procrastinate ending this fic, heh
> 
> i hope you guys are still enjoying! this chapter feels a little messy to me but i hope its a good followup to last chapter's cliffhanger >___<
> 
> hope you're all having a safe and happy holiday season!!


	10. 10

Doyoung's apartment feels empty when Taeyong isn't there.

He's grown used to it over the few months together— his boyfriend is around as often as he can be, whenever both aren't busy with acting or choreographing, he comes over, sometimes spends multiple nights, and he makes the place feel _whole._

__The apartment Doyoung's been staying in for years now has just been that, a place to stay. But with Taeyong, it feels like a home._ _

__He brings a hand through the dark strands of his hair and rests his elbows against the kitchen counter, unlocking his phone. Seeing the date briefly across the top of the screen makes the corners of his lips lift in a slight smile, before the phone reveals a message history from the night before, himself and Taeyong exchanging cheesy goodnight messages and strings of heart emojis, something that would make Doyoung roll his eyes, if it were anyone else._ _

__It's still early, but Doyoung's more than impatient to get things started, and to see Taeyong at all, and types a quick message._ _

_Ready for me to come get you?_

__He doesn't expect a reply for at least a few minutes, so he puts his phone down and wanders to the bathroom to fuss over his hair for a while._ _

__When Doyoung returns, his screen is brightly lit with a notification, and brings the phone to rest in his hands again to read Taeyong's reply._ _

_Yep. See you soon._

____Taeyong follows the message up with another spam of hearts and other cute emojis that make Doyoung smile again, bigger this time, and he pushes the phone to his pocket, grabbing the keys to his car from a further counter._ _ _ _

____When he pulls up outside the other's apartment building, Taeyong is already waiting for him, and Doyoung rushes to get out, even though he's seen the other less than two days ago, it always feels as if it's been a lifetime._ _ _ _

____He grins at the sight of him as he approaches, and leans in to press a gentle kiss at his boyfriend's cheek. "Happy birthday."_ _ _ _

____Taeyong smiles, looping fingers around Doyoung's wrist to lazily hold onto him. "You remembered, how sweet," He teases, and Doyoung manages to smile wider. "Thank you."_ _ _ _

____"I made the reservations at the restaurant at eight, so we still have a while. You wanna come back to my place?"_ _ _ _

____"Sure." Taeyong answers, and Doyoung has to hold back a sigh of relief at that, seeing as how most of the night depended on Taeyong agreeing to come._ _ _ _

____"How's Johnny and Ten?" Doyoung asks instead, intent on not revealing any of the surprises he'd planned._ _ _ _

____Both Taeyong and Doyoung had grown closer to each other's friends— the majority of which they'd known from school already. Doyoung liked Johnny in particular though, mostly because he was probably the only one that wasn't surprised in the slightest about their relationship._ _ _ _

____Taeyong exhales with a fake dramatisation as Doyoung guides him to the passenger side of his car, a hand at the small of his back. "They want a _third_ cat already." _ _ _ _

____"A third?" Doyoung repeats with a chuckle, opening the door for Taeyong and stepping aside._ _ _ _

____"Yeah. I'm sure any moment now they're gonna kick me out so the cats can have my room." The older waits until Doyoung's in the car to speak, and smiles softly when Doyoung brings a hand to gently rest at his thigh, tracing delicate patterns with his thumb._ _ _ _

____Ten had moved in only a month or so ago, and had happened to bring two cats with him. Taeyong liked them, but he'd use anything as an excuse to stay with Doyoung as often as he could._ _ _ _

____Doyoung leans back a little in his seat, refraining from saying something at the tip of his tongue and instead starting the car again, humming softly to himself._ _ _ _

____The drive seems much quicker than the one there, and before he knows it he's bringing his car to a stop outside his own building, and getting out to once more open the door for Taeyong, who instantly leans into him once out._ _ _ _

____Doyoung takes him up to his apartment, and guides him until they reach the kitchen, motioning for Taeyong to sit. "I think I owe you something," He clears his throat, standing at the opposite side of the counter, across from the older. "I have for a while now."_ _ _ _

____Taeyong raises an eyebrow, like he has a suspicion of what Doyoung's referring to, but doesn't say anything, just nods to encourage him._ _ _ _

____Doyoung takes a breath, and retrieves his phone, placing it on the counter and pressing the screen a few times until he comes to a song, a piano instrumental._ _ _ _

____He can't remember the last time he's sung in front of anyone. It's not like acting, really, it's not something that dozens of staff and crew and background actors witness him doing all at once. It's something that feels private and vulnerable, especially in front of the person he loves._ _ _ _

____But well, he had kind of promised it— and he did love the song he'd chosen, one that was about roses, and reminded him of Taeyong more than anything else._ _ _ _

____And Taeyong had so willingly showed him his dances, Doyoung feels it's the least he owes him._ _ _ _

____He presses the play button, and listens to the first few seconds of the piano playing from the phone before he starts to sing._ _ _ _

____He can't quite bring himself to look at Taeyong as he starts, and instead fixes his gaze on the counter, then on a nearby cabinet, then the wall, though once he finds comfortableness in it, and settles into the _feel_ of singing that he'd thought was lost, he looks to his boyfriend, and lets his expression soften._ _ _ _

____Doyoung has never seen Taeyong so focused, even when he's watched him dance. For a moment it makes him worry he's going to mess up and make the gesture something he'd rather Taeyong forget, but before he knows it, the song playing ends, and he finds himself quiet._ _ _ _

____"Jesus, Doyoung," Taeyong starts, standing up and making his way around the counter, to tug Doyoung into a tight hug. "What took you so long? You're better than anything I could have imagined."_ _ _ _

____Doyoung exhales at the compliment, arms finding themselves around Taeyong. "I was nervous I'd mess up." He answers with the type of honesty he'd never have been able to even imagine a few months ago._ _ _ _

____Taeyong seems to notice it too, and nods slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Well you didn't," He whispers, staying close for another kiss any second. "And even if you did— You still would have been perfect. Thank you for singing for me."_ _ _ _

____Doyoung's the one to initiate the second kiss, pressing his lips a little harsher against Taeyong's, the two immediately falling into a more intense kiss. Doyoung lifts Taeyong so he's sat at the counter, while he's between the other's legs, then wills himself to break apart their kiss._ _ _ _

____When the blonde pouts, Doyoung can't help but spoil him with a few, gentler kisses at his cheek. "That wasn't your present."_ _ _ _

____"It wasn't?"_ _ _ _

____"Nope," Doyoung hums, one hand lazily circled around Taeyong's waist to keep him steady. "Close your eyes."_ _ _ _

____Taeyong raises an eyebrow, and Doyoung grins. "Come on. Don't you trust me?"_ _ _ _

____The older looks like he wants to argue, but can't, so he does as he's told and closes his eyes without much more hesitance._ _ _ _

____Doyoung watches him closely, and once he's sure Taeyong's eyes aren't opening any soon, reaches to his back pocket, taking the cool, metal object between his fingers. For a moment he holds it, runs a fingertip over the edge, then with his other hand, takes Taeyong's, and places the key into the palm of his boyfriend's hands, leaving him to form a fist around it._ _ _ _

____"You can open them." He says, and Taeyong does, moving his fingers to look at what Doyoung had placed there._ _ _ _

____The younger closely watches Taeyong's expression, trying to read whether he knows the intentions of it._ _ _ _

____Taeyong is silent for longer than Doyoung can count. "It's—"_ _ _ _

____"A key," Doyoung finishes, taking the other's free hand with his own. "To my apartment. Or our apartment, if you want it to be." He finishes with a soft smile, and offers Taeyong's hand a squeeze._ _ _ _

____"Doyoung," The blonde exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "Is— Are you sure?"_ _ _ _

____Doyoung finds himself smiling at that, and nods carefully, releasing Taeyong's hand to instead play with a strand of the other's hair. "Yeah. I'm sure. I love you, Taeyong. I want to live with you, I want to—" He pauses, considers his words. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."_ _ _ _

____Taeyong tears his gaze from the key in his hand to Doyoung instead, letting their eyes effortlessly meet. "I love you too," He answers, glances at the key again, then looks back to his boyfriend. "I'd love to move in with you. And to spend our lives together, and—" He makes a breathless noise, and Doyoung finds himself really wanting to kiss him again. "Thank you. For this, for singing, for everything. For giving us a chance."_ _ _ _

____Taeyong pauses this time, leaving a lingering, comfortable silence._ _ _ _

____"I'm really glad you did, you know. That you started— I don't know. That we stopped being just sex and fighting," He continues, and Doyoung nods to show he's listening, encourages him. "I'm glad I get to love you now."_ _ _ _

____As soon as Taeyong's finished speaking, Doyoung kisses him, unable to resist, though only lets it linger for a few seconds. "I'm glad I get to love you too. I hope I can forever." He mumbles, still close to Taeyong's face, inches away from his lips._ _ _ _

____Taeyong kisses him again, even softer and quicker than the one earlier._ _ _ _

____"You will."_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh, it's over! T_____T i'll miss writing this fic so much! i really hope i did the last chapter justice, heh
> 
> this is my first ever completed chaptered fic, to think i was going to leave it as just a oneshot!! :0 of course, it's all because of the sweet comments i've gotten, so thank you supporting this fic, it's been so motivating and lovely!!
> 
> i do have plenty more dotae to come, (i'm already planning another chaptered fic for them!) though i also really love writing ships like jaewoo, (who i have a best friends to enemies to lovers fic coming for :0) yumark, jaemsung, and lots more!! so i have plenty of fic plans coming up :D and of course, requests for ships and fics are always open! they really help if i'm having a creative block, heh
> 
> again, thank you for supporting and reading this fic!! i still feel like my writing has a lot to improve with but this fic has been so fun to write <3 if anyone would like to talk fics, or dotae, or even just nct in general, let me know!! i'd always love to make writer/reader friends :D


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